Winter's Tale (2014)

People who write about movies throw around the word “miscalculation” a lot, but rare is the film that truly earns that description right from the title card all the way to the end credits. Winter’s Tale, an adaptation of Mark Helprin’s 1983 novel written and directed by Akiva Goldsman, is one such movie. I have some idea of what this film was trying to be, and it clearly wants to say really powerful things about “love” and “the universe,” but it falls absolutely flat at every turn. A work of magical realism that has no idea how to properly integrate the magic and the realism, Winter’s Tale doesn’t stir the soul as much as it incites unintentional laughter. This was always going to be a difficult movie to do right, but Goldsman’s version gets just about everything wrong.

So, what’s the plot of this movie? Well, uh… let’s give this a shot. Colin Farrell stars as Peter Lake, a thief in 1916 New York who was left there as an infant after his Irish parents were denied entry into the United States. For whatever reason, Peter is in trouble with gangster Pearly Soames (Russell Crowe), who also happens to be some sort of demon. Early in the film, Peter is cornered by Pearly’s cronies, but he is saved by the sudden appearance of a flying white horse. That horse comes back many times throughout the film to save Peter’s life. Oh, and then Jessica Brown Findlay shows up as a pretty girl with tuberculosis who falls in love with Peter. Eventually Peter becomes immortal, and the film flashes forward to present day, where he meets Virginia (Jennifer Connelly), whose daughter has cancer. As you might have guessed by now, there is no way to gracefully describe what happens here. It’s all just so nuts and disjointed. There is also a surprise cameo which I won’t reveal—ah, screw it. Will Smith shows up as Lucifer. You know, the devil.

This is not one of those movies that stinks because no one was all that interested in making a good final product. Like all fascinatingly bad movies, Winter’s Tale seems to be the work of people who are utterly convinced they are filming the most wondrous story ever told. However, when your movie is filled with flying horses, an Irish demon Russell Crowe, and casual conversations about “miracles,” you have to somehow create a universe where none of this seems out of place. In Goldsman’s film, every new development feels out of place. The magical elements feel as though they’re being made up as the film goes along, and the “real” elements couldn’t be more manufactured. It’s absolute twaddle presented with the utmost sincerity.

It’s not all bad, and that’s what makes the endless nonsense all the more frustrating. The romance between Farrell and Brown Findlay is often quite watchable, even though the circumstances surrounding it are—much like the rest of the film—garbage. Then, for reasons I won’t spoil here, that romance is cast aside, and what was left of the film’s charm goes along with it. Winter’s Tale wants to end with an inspirational message about how miracles are everywhere and the universe is looking out for us, but it’s hard to imagine anyone hearing the narration at the end and not thinking it’s all a bunch of bovine excrement. The problem is not the optimism of Winter’s Tale. It’s that it never provides the audience with a moment of emotional authenticity to which they can connect or relate. Goldsman certainly doesn’t lack the courage of his convictions, but perhaps a little self-awareness could have done his passion project some good.

Grade: D