A soppy romantic fantasy for housewives and mentally-challenged kiddies. The moment Rachel steps into Harry's forest cabin, you just know that he will somehow end up healing her. Which in turn means he has to die. (How poetic.) Which in turn means the movie will end with Rachel holding their love-child, telling it about Harry's bizarre affliction. All of that can be predicted – and in fact I did predict it – already before the movie's half-way point.
A trite formulaic drama with all the usual boring clichés. Let's not forget the moronic plot-devices too. My favourite: in order to split up Harry and Rachel (so that Harry can predictably get killed by his old buddy), the writer injects a terribly dumb scene in which a random patient stops Rachel during a fire-alarm to boast about his miracle healing, and he does this by holding her ARMS REAL TIGHT AS IF HE WAS GONNA MURDER HER.
The only good thing about the movie is Rachel Hurd-Wood who looks stunning (if a little too tall for my liking). The movie's best scene – bar none – is when Rachel is putting on her bra. (I just wish they showed her take it off.) Just fast-forward to that and ignore the rest of this sheeet.
Guess what name their love-child gets? Diana (F-ing) Ross. Because Rachel likes Motown. Now you get some idea what kind of crap this is, and what kind of a mindless oaf wrote it. Diana Ross! F off.
A trite formulaic drama with all the usual boring clichés. Let's not forget the moronic plot-devices too. My favourite: in order to split up Harry and Rachel (so that Harry can predictably get killed by his old buddy), the writer injects a terribly dumb scene in which a random patient stops Rachel during a fire-alarm to boast about his miracle healing, and he does this by holding her ARMS REAL TIGHT AS IF HE WAS GONNA MURDER HER.
The only good thing about the movie is Rachel Hurd-Wood who looks stunning (if a little too tall for my liking). The movie's best scene – bar none – is when Rachel is putting on her bra. (I just wish they showed her take it off.) Just fast-forward to that and ignore the rest of this sheeet.
Guess what name their love-child gets? Diana (F-ing) Ross. Because Rachel likes Motown. Now you get some idea what kind of crap this is, and what kind of a mindless oaf wrote it. Diana Ross! F off.