The great mystery of life, for dummies

Rating: Null/10 (12 November 2011)

This movie is supposed to be provocative and thoughtful, with its references to the eternal struggle between free will and an omnipotent God. Who's the boss? could be the subtitle of this movie. In fact, it debases the central question that has forever plagued eastern and western philosophers alike. In the end, it has little content beyond what we would hear in a high school debate. There are too many shortcuts and just not enough fleshed-out ideas for a movie that claims to be tackling The Grand Mystery of the Universe, but it takes itself way too seriously to be Monty Python-esque about it and come up with credible answers: the angels are supposed to be the enforcers of a master plan, yet they have hobbled powers; they have to wear stupid 1960s Mad Men hats in contemporary Manhattan; couldn't God have just given them key cards to open doors? Not to mention that the secret of their power is that they twist doorknobs counter-clockwise to enter their secret realm. Who would have thought? The two main characters are always conveniently single whenever they meet over the years. More importantly, John Slattery is not so believable as the head field agent in charge of making sure people stick to The Master Plan. He comes across as a little too slick, too corporate, and too efficient but without any passion. In fact, the whole Plan thing is presented along those lines: the Adjustment Bureau personnel seem to drive Miami CSI style SUVs, they are headquartered in a huge warehouse, the minions seem hard at work on The Plan in a large retro-style library. It's a little like watching Jack Lemmon's The Apartment, but colorized. Perhaps the most important thing is that Matt Damon and Emily Blunt have no believable chemistry when they are together, so it's hard to accept that two young and attractive people are saving themselves and avoiding romantic entanglements for seven years so they can eventually be together and buck The Master Plan cooked up by God Himself. Plus, it irks me that the whole movie reduces what could have been an interesting idea played by otherwise good actors to the tired American cliché that Love Will Find a Way and Triumph. Really? Two people are only mildly attracted to each other at the level of a first date (Blunt even tells Damon, at one of the climax points, that he doesn't know anything about her) in a cinematically unconvincing way, and this is supposed to be enough to come to the attention of God, halt the machinations of dozens of angels working on the case to set things back on track, and rewrite the master plan for all of humanity? Somebody seems to have given Damon novocain in his morning decaf, because he shows as much passion as a mushroom, and Blunt, while acting credibly, is just given too many bad one-liners that alienate the audience. We don't know if she's just bitchy, flippant or wary of Damon stalking her. She's supposed to be a dancer that changes the world of dance, yet the dancing we see looks like it was choreographed by high-schoolers; Damon is supposed to become a President that will change the world for the better, but the only evidence of his acumen and grit is a clichéd concession speech in which he admits to the image manipulation that lies behind political campaigns. Wow. I'm stunned. They hire consultants so his shoes can match his ties? So it's not about ideas? Thanks, Matt, that's a major revelation, which encapsulates more or less what's wrong here: we're continually told to be on the lookout for something earthshaking, and it's just, in the end, a case of lust. Yuri Zhivago pursuing Lara across Siberia, across wars and revolutions, writing poems that survive Stalinism, and in the end dying for her: that was earthshaking love. This? Pfft.