You really shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, so perhaps I’m being a bit harsh in my review of The Lovely Bones. After all, my ticket *was* free as part of my friend Holly’s Film Club membership. Or maybe the movie was JUST SO BAD that even free wasn’t cheap enough.
Yes, I read the book. But this isn’t a case of “movies always stink by comparison.” It has been so long since I read the novel, I couldn’t remember much other than that the narrator was dead. (Don’t worry – that’s NOT a spoiler. Hence, no alert.)
My problems with it:
I didn’t hang around to watch the credits, but if I had, I suspect there would’ve been a noticeable void when it came to editors. If this movie *had* editors, I think the producers should ask for a refund: the movie has a run time of 2h20m, and much of that is fantastical imagery that only stoned movie-goers and fans of Robin William’s long-forgotten flick, “What Dreams May Come,” will appreciate.
My other issue was structure. There were a few really suspenseful scenes, but instead of allowing the audience a bit of pay-off for its patience, the director would interrupt these moments to splice in painfully slow scenes. He was probably trying to intensify emotions or create empathy via a frustrated audience, but his mastery of this device was as effective as a toddler manipulating a marionette.
In short: save your money. This skeleton’s been kicked.
pithypants 
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