Seven Pounds

An IRS agent (Will Smith), for some secret reason of his own, meddles in the lives of others, including a blind musician (Woody Harrelson) and a beautiful woman dying of “congenital heart failure” (Rosario Dawson), with whom the agent falls in love. Nothing can save a movie when the script is this bad—does writer Grant Nieporte really mean “congenital” or “congestive” heart failure? Who knows? It’s a mystery. Another mystery is the question of why Smith, Dawson, Harrelson, Barry Pepper (as Smith’s best friend) and director Gabriele Muccino chose to waste their considerable talents trying to heave this flapping turkey into the air. Never once does the movie touch reality, or even convincing fantasy; there’s not a syllable here that was worth reading, filming or (now that the deed is done) watching.