Colin Farrell is a skilled thief ducking and diving from Oirish crime boss Pearly Soames (Crowe) in New York circa 1915. One near escape brings him into possession of a magic horse that directs him to the house of a rich businessman (Hurt) and his dying daughter Beverly (former Downton star Brown Findlay); Farrell not only sneaks into the house, but also her heart (aww). However, Pearly, who is also an agent of darkness (!?!), gets wind of this and through some magic/premonition/prophesy thing (!?!) decides that Beverly and Farrell must die.
Why, I don't know. The rules of the game are never explained. We don't know what the stakes are or what will happen if Pearly succeeds. What are we supposed to feel/know when a star starts twinkling at Farrell? Why can the horse fly? What's up with Crowe's face? There's a connection between these, the miracles, dark armies and souls but it's buried in voluminous dialogue that tries to do too much. Loads of interesting things are brought up but then dropped as it goes in search of the next thing.
Crowe's Irish accent would be bad enough - up there with Sarah Holcomb (Caddyshack) and Tom Cruise (Far & Away) - but next to Farrell, who speaks normally, it sounds ridiculous; when the action moves from 1915 to today it becomes laughable. Farrell and Brown Findlay's love happens all too fast but there's chemistry to be had there. William Hurt bustles about and then just disappears.
There's just enough here to check out the book, as one can only assume Mark Helprin's novel was a little clearer than Goldsman's screenplay. The story tries to create a brand new fairy tale, one that doesn't shy away from disease and death and which isn't a tongue-in-cheek knowing take for once.
All these problems (and there are more) could be down to the moron beside who waited to tuck into his super loud rustling, never-ending packet of crunchy crisps just as a muddled opening narration began to ramble on about how light and time connects us all. The secret to everything might have been in that narration but thanks to Mr. Crisps, and Akiva Goldsman's rushed storytelling, things never got going for me.
