Here is a film with an exemplary cast but a script that barely scratches the surface and direction that never really lets you get inside any of the characters. The promise of "Collateral Beauty" was so much more than what ended up on the screen.
The film is set in New York City, but there is no there there. It exists as a spotlessly polished setting for a fluffy story of tragedy and friendship and hugging and important life lessons that would have felt more at home on a TV show back lot.
The issues in question concern uber-sad Howard (Will Smith), a charismatic advertising executive. Howard's people skills vanished three years ago with the death of his young daughter. Now rather than schmoozing with valuable clients, he mopes in his firm's large open office space. He spends his days constructing vast, complicated million-domino cityscapes connected by angular highways. Once they're set up, he destroys them with the flick of a finger.
The cascading collapse reflects the debris of his bereaved life, get it? If not, don't worry. Director David Frankel will have him repeat the action over and over with a hangdog expression until you grasp the insight.
Because Howard is a founder of the company and owns the majority of its shares, his partners (Edward Norton, Kate Winslet and Michael Pena) can't send him out the door with a golden parachute and best wishes. Worse yet, they can't sell the business to a rival firm and cash out, as they'd all like to do. But they have an idea: If they were to create some convincing videos of Howard acting nutty in public, they could challenge his competence, seal the deal and retire wealthy ever after.
This decision is presented as more charitable to Howard's bruised attitude than self-serving of their own desires. Howard's cronies consider him a close friend, after all.
Nonetheless, they hire a detective to watch him. When that reveals that Howard posts emotional letters to Love, Time and Death, they devise a plan. By hiring three members of a local theater troupe to interact with Howard, his delusions can be recorded as proof that the agency should be sold. Enter lovely Keira Knightley, youthful Jacob Latimore and ageless Helen Mirren to impersonate Howard's fantasy pen pals.
Meanwhile, Howard joins a therapy group led by Naomie Harris, who lost a daughter herself. Which is just as well, because his three colleagues need their own long, expository conversations with the hired actors. Believe it or not, each partner is facing a personal issue of affection, ticking clocks or mortality. What are the odds?
The role of Howard puts Smith at his brow-furrowing, tear-soaked most actory. He weeps repeatedly, and while the waterworks may be genuine, they look like pure glycerin drops. Usually a marathon runner in his films, he's just a sprinter here, sharing significant screen time with the others. There's a fair degree of humor sugarcoating the story as the hired actors take a hammy approach to copying Howard's apparitions. Mirren's diva loves the attention, declaring, "Maybe I should play all the parts."
But the insipid script never brings its characters to life. Instead, it puts the reliable cast in autopilot for what feel like extended cameo roles. For some real insight into the heart-wrenching aftershock of family tragedy, watch the deeply touching, darkly funny, inspirational "Manchester by the Sea." Even at a brief 96 minutes, "Collateral Beauty" is too long by half.
