P.S., I Love You

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Surprisingly, P.S. I Love You isn't half bad, which only makes it half good, which is a long way from great. Adapted from Cecelia Ahern's novel, director Richard LaGrevanese (Freedom Writers) moves the action Stateside where New Yorker Holly Kennedy (Swank) comes to terms with her husband Gerry's (Butler) death. Gerry, who knew he was dying from a brain tumour, had written a series of letters to Holly before his demise to help his wife through her bereavement. What's Holly to do? Well, throw in a handsome bartender (Connick Jr.) and a handsome guitarist in Whelan's (Jeffery Dean Morgan), during a short sojourn in Ireland, and you've got a decent hark back to old-fashioned romance movies on your hands. P.S. I Love You is a great idea for a chick lit book and a chick flick movie - it's got tragedy, some funny moments, handsome guys (with massive backs) running amok, the possibility of a new romance and a fresh start in life. However, the problem is that it's just an idea that should have been expanded on: the film's plot is so thin that it makes other chick flicks jealous and, coupled with Butler's cringey 'Oirishness' and the long running time (lumbering in at over two hours is just downright ridiculous), kills any possibility for greatness. What is impressive is that they manage to pronounce Dun Laoghaire right, but then went and ballsed it all up by calling Whelan's 'Waylan's. That might sound like a minute detail, but if they didn't put effort into this area, how many other areas did the work not go into? There's no reason in the world that a romantic comedy can't be a great film with something to say - it's just baffling that so many don't even try.