Zac Efron continues to prove his worth as a leading man in the appropriately sappy supernatural drama Charlie St. Cloud.
When in perspective against the cynical nature of our times, Charlie St. Cloud is quite the ballsy film. Not many would approach death and spirituality with the maturity and sensitivity portrayed here, let alone with an actor of Efron’s “teen dream” status headlining the marquee.
This is a shame, for Efron is a talented actor, and stories of this sort deserve their place amongst the secular drivel of, say, Easy A. (Perhaps even more than people are willing to admit).
That’s not to say that Charlie St. Cloud is a homerun, for there are many problems in its execution, even if its intensions are in the right place.
Efron stars as (of course) Charlie, a small town star turned misfit, who withdraws within himself when his younger brother Sam (Charlie Tahan) dies in a car crash.
Where the supernatural aspect comes into play is that Charlie can see dead people, particularly his brother with whom he plays catch every day. What makes that premise work is the heartfelt sentimentality within those moments, Efron and Tahan playing brothers in arms and well as brothers in blood.
Efron pulls off the quiet morning required of his role, bringing a less is more approach while also knowing when to turn on the waterworks during scenes of emotional turmoil (of which there are many).
Where Charlie St. Cloud falters is in its romantic sub-plot between Efron and Molly Ringwald look-a-like Amanda Crew. Sure, they look great on screen, yet the lack of spark between the two makes its third act (which revolves around a so-so twist) less than convincing.
Yet as a meditation on mourning, coupled with its profound sense of Catholic (lite) spirituality (St. Jude, he of lost causes, is evoked several times), Charlie St. Cloud features an element sorely missing in other films of its ilk: soul. |