Despite the fact that nobody can predict when death will pay them a call and chop their life short, based on the movie P.S. I Love You, with some applied imagination and proper planning in advance, you you could possibly cheat the Grim Reaper slightly. Or in this instance at least, from beyond the grave.
Certainly not that this dark premise seems like ideal material for any fanciful romantic comedy. But filmmaker Richard LaGravenese (The Fisher King, The Bridges Of Madison County) accepts the process of juggling this life and subsequently for laughs, and awkwardly negotiates an often less than plausible common ground between the very best of all possible worlds, such as they might be.
Gerry is played by Gerard Butler and Holly is played by Hilary Swank, a stressed out young Manhattan couple into marriage meltdown at the moment, as they brawl verbally about Holly's inclination towards too much shopping, insufficient 'hot, nasty sex' on their weekly to-do list, Gerry's unsexy slacker attitude toward professional ambition, whether they forgot to have children along the way, and might this be very well all that there is from life. In the midst of Holly's nightly nagging and lingering doubts about their relationship, happy-go-lucky Irish rocker import Gerry suddenly kicks the bucket. Which leaves Holly inside a deep rut of guilt-ridden regret and inconsolable misery.
Besides the fact that concerned mom Patricia (Kathy Bates) and nurturing best girlfriends Denise (Lisa Kudrow) and Sharon (Gina Gershon) don't have any success getting Holly to dispel those daily blues, the sudden, mysterious delivery of a series of letters from late hubby Gerry, slowly work their magic in snapping their gloomy gal pal from her depressed state. The letters function just like a 12-step program presumably mailed in the afterlife, nudging the stricken widow back to normalcy as well as a little potential new romance. The tragicomic recovery process ends in at least two trips back to Ireland where the couple first met, where Mom and Holly embark on a weird adventure together, to go get men.
P.S.I Love You and its dead letter collection plot device is far too overdone, and feels dramatically energy-inefficient and contrived to begin with. Much more effective is LaGravenese's sensitive physical and emotional layering of the complex unraveling of grief like a state of mind. And Swank gets it simply right with a fine-tuned subtle expression of confusion, despondency and rage, though Holly's overly extended cranky self-pity party eventually wears out its welcome, for the characters and audience alike.
And yes it never quite seems sensible why Holly isn't enamored through the persistent advances from the infatuated hunk played by Harry Connick Jr., whether or not the guy is on the eccentric side, as when he invades her private space in the local pub's john to present her with the heart he wears a little too prominently on his sleeve. In any case, P.S. I Love You, could have done with a lot less of a sense of being on rewind as each posthumous letter arrives, and every time a romantic urge or mental mood swing gets reshuffled.
Certainly not that this dark premise seems like ideal material for any fanciful romantic comedy. But filmmaker Richard LaGravenese (The Fisher King, The Bridges Of Madison County) accepts the process of juggling this life and subsequently for laughs, and awkwardly negotiates an often less than plausible common ground between the very best of all possible worlds, such as they might be.
Gerry is played by Gerard Butler and Holly is played by Hilary Swank, a stressed out young Manhattan couple into marriage meltdown at the moment, as they brawl verbally about Holly's inclination towards too much shopping, insufficient 'hot, nasty sex' on their weekly to-do list, Gerry's unsexy slacker attitude toward professional ambition, whether they forgot to have children along the way, and might this be very well all that there is from life. In the midst of Holly's nightly nagging and lingering doubts about their relationship, happy-go-lucky Irish rocker import Gerry suddenly kicks the bucket. Which leaves Holly inside a deep rut of guilt-ridden regret and inconsolable misery.
Besides the fact that concerned mom Patricia (Kathy Bates) and nurturing best girlfriends Denise (Lisa Kudrow) and Sharon (Gina Gershon) don't have any success getting Holly to dispel those daily blues, the sudden, mysterious delivery of a series of letters from late hubby Gerry, slowly work their magic in snapping their gloomy gal pal from her depressed state. The letters function just like a 12-step program presumably mailed in the afterlife, nudging the stricken widow back to normalcy as well as a little potential new romance. The tragicomic recovery process ends in at least two trips back to Ireland where the couple first met, where Mom and Holly embark on a weird adventure together, to go get men.
P.S.I Love You and its dead letter collection plot device is far too overdone, and feels dramatically energy-inefficient and contrived to begin with. Much more effective is LaGravenese's sensitive physical and emotional layering of the complex unraveling of grief like a state of mind. And Swank gets it simply right with a fine-tuned subtle expression of confusion, despondency and rage, though Holly's overly extended cranky self-pity party eventually wears out its welcome, for the characters and audience alike.
And yes it never quite seems sensible why Holly isn't enamored through the persistent advances from the infatuated hunk played by Harry Connick Jr., whether or not the guy is on the eccentric side, as when he invades her private space in the local pub's john to present her with the heart he wears a little too prominently on his sleeve. In any case, P.S. I Love You, could have done with a lot less of a sense of being on rewind as each posthumous letter arrives, and every time a romantic urge or mental mood swing gets reshuffled.
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