n the small Southern town of Brixton, Ga., widowed Annie Wilson
(Blanchett) balances the demands of her three young children with an
unusual occupation: reading the fortunes of Brixton's down-and-out.
Wilson has "the gift"--the power of clairvoyance, which allows her to "see
things." But not everything, including the death a year earlier of her
husband in a work accident.
Annie's gifts include empathy. Annie feels the pain of abused wife Valerie
Barksdale (Swank), warning her that she needs to leave her redneck husband,
Donnie (Reeves). Annie is also apparently the only friend of Buddy Cole
(Ribisi), a troubled young auto mechanic.
But Annie's emotional connections stop short at her own family, where the
loss of her husband is like an open wound for her three sons, especially
teen-age Mike (Lynnsee Provence). Mike fights in school, which compels
Annie to speak with principal Wayne Collins (Kinnear). He is engaged to
Jessica King (Katie Holmes), daughter of Brixton's most prominent citizen.
And Annie's second sight is no help when Donnie Barksdale, enraged at her
meddling, threatens Annie and her children, accusing her of doing
"Satan's work." Donnie terrifies Annie at the very moment she is needed
most: to help the police solve the disappearance of Jessica King.
Annie's visions help the police find Jessica, and point a finger at Donnie.
But Annie is not able to deal with the increasing threat from Donnie, the
responsibility of a criminal trial and the pressing needs of Buddy--until
disaster strikes. By then, Annie finds herself overwhelmed by the
consequences of her gift.
Big stars flesh out a small story
The Gift started out as a small, character-driven movie that ended
up drawing a heavyweight cast based largely on the reputation of its lead,
Oscar-nominated actress Cate Blanchett. The presence of all that performing
talent, abetted by Sam Raimi's understated direction, gives The Gift
a depth and richness that belies its melodramatic script by Oscar-winner
Thornton and Epperson.
It's fair to say that The Gift wouldn't be half the film it is
without Blanchett's layered and subtle performance as Annie Wilson. The
Australian actress--who has been called this generation's Meryl
Streep--brings Annie to life in all her contradictions, and is utterly
convincing as a small-town, Southern single mother who just happens to see
ghosts.
Fortunately, Blanchett is surrounded by some of the finest character actors
around, and director Raimi--sometimes known for his flashy camera
tricks--has wisely chosen to let them do their thing with little
interference. Reeves, in particular, surprises as the menacing Donnie
Barksdale, almost unrecognizable under a scruffy beard and gimme cap. He
effectively captures not only Barksdale's raging physicality, but also his
emotional vulnerability, especially in a courtroom scene late in the film.
Ribisi, similarly, finds contradictory tenderness and torment in his
Boo Radley-like character, culminating in one memorably gut-wrenching scene.
But this is one gift with little payoff. The script, reportedly based
loosely on Thornton's mother, paints many memorable characters, but places
them in an overly familiar Southern Gothic scenario, the outcome of which is a
little too predictable. A few key roles--especially Holmes' vixenish
Jessica and Kinnear's principal Collins--are too stereotyped or sketchy for
us to care much about their ultimate fates.
