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September 16, 2005
Just Like Heaven
(out of four)
Just Like Heaven is the story of a real estate dream come true interrupted by a dopey supernatural romance. When out-of-work garden designer David Abbott (Mark Ruffalo) stumbles across a fully furnished San Francisco apartment with big windows, a fireplace, and a private roof overlooking the bay, of course there has to be a catch. Turns out the place is haunted, and no sooner has David left his first water ring on the coffee table than Elizabeth Masterson (Reese Witherspoon), the anally retentive chick who used to live there, pops up to pester him about it.
Now, I've never really understood Mark Ruffalo's appeal as a romantic lead, although I suspect the ladies like him because he's a bit of a "project." Hot-headed and scruffy, he's the kind of emotionally disconnected guy they can take under their wing, nurture, and transform into a regular Prince Charming. Still, there's no denying he's got chemistry with Witherspoon, and it's entertaining to see this presumably dead girl bring out the life in this unkempt slob. She's organized, ambitious, and outspoken, while he's fallen into a sluggish bout of self-pity after the death of his wife, and the script plays off their differences with the whippersnapper charm of a classic screwball comedy.
As the movie unfolds in the most predictable possible fashion, it's the performances that keep us hooked (including a runaway cameo by Napoleon Dynamite star Jon Heder). Naturally, Elizabeth isn't even dead, but only comatose, which makes her unique among ghosts in that she has the chance to save herself from dying. But can she? And why would David want to help? After all, he's just found a gorgeous apartment he can afford to sublet even while unemployed ("People would kill their grandmothers for a lot less in this city," the realtor tells him). Besides, if he really liked having her around, logistically, it seems like pulling the plug might actually be the surest way to keep her ghost from going anywhere.
Just Like Heaven belongs to the same class of cotton-candy romances as Chances Are and Somewhere in Time, although it steers its light-hearted subject into darker territory with the life support subplot. One can't help but think of the Terry Schiavo case while watching the movie, but lord knows what point the filmmakers are trying to make about euthanasia. It goes without saying that anyone who dies misses out on whatever surprises life still had in store – be it true love or a nightmare IRS audit – but I question whether the vegetative coma sufferers of the world really need a poster child as perky as Reese Witherspoon to suggest that their spirits are all bumming around begging for a second chance.
[as featured on Premiere.com]
Posted by Peter Debruge on
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