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Meet Joe Black

Dead man's party

* Meet Joe Black
* Rated PG-13
* Starring Brad Pitt, Anthony Hopkins, Claire Forlani, Jake Weber, Jeffrey Tambor
* Directed by Martin Brest
* 179 Minutes

Review by Patrick Lee

On the eve of his 65th birthday, Bill Parrish (Hopkins) starts hearing voices. Then he has premonitions of his own demise. This unsettles his comfortable, privileged life as the patriarch of a loving family, the captain of a successful communications corporation and the squire of a sprawling country estate.

Our Pick: C

That doesn't stop him from counseling his favorite daughter, Susan (Forlani), not to settle in matters of love--even though Susan's intended is Parrish's own chief corporate lieutenant, Drew (Weber). "I want you to levitate," he tells her. "I want you to dance like a dervish."

With this in mind, Susan has a chance encounter with a garrulous young man (Pitt), and briefly glimpses new possibilities. But the two part company, and the young man dies unexpectedly.

Parrish, meanwhile, realizes that his premonitions are real. The voices that speak to him of death become corporeal in the form of the recently deceased young man. It's Death in human form, and he wants to take a little breather from the unending labor of ending lives. In exchange for acting as a tour guide to life, Parrish will be granted an extension of the ultimate deadline--just long enough for Death, renamed Joe Black, to have a little fun.

At first, Parrish's family is bemused by this mysterious stranger, and Susan can't figure out how the friendly young man she met earlier has suddenly become her father's closest confidante. Slowly, Joe's directness and simple charm win them over--Susan especially.

Black also insinuates himself into Parrish's business, where a major takeover is being considered. Facing death, Parrish is reluctant to sell the company he's built. But the takeover is pushed by Drew, who begins to view Black as a rival for both Parrish's business and Susan's hand. The longer Black hangs around, the closer he and Susan become, to Parrish's considerable anguish. Over all of this looms the prospect of the inevitable. But what will become of Susan?

A slow death

Early in Meet Joe Black, Susan interrupts her father during a lecture about the joys of love. "Give it to me again," she says. "But the short version this time."

The same could be said for this entire film, directed by Brest (Scent of a Woman) and scripted by four veteran writers, Ron Osborn, Jeff Reno, Kevin Wade and Bo Goldman. Meet Joe Black is based on the 1934 movie Death Takes a Holiday and the 1920s stage play that came before it. But it is less a remake than an inflation, running more than twice as long as the original film--nearly three hours--to little benefit.

Though handsomely photographed by Emmanuel Lubezki and boasting rich production design by Dante Ferretti, Black plays like an initial director's cut. Scene after scene goes on a beat--or two or three--longer than necessary, vitiating any dramatic tension and giving the film a plodding, somber pace. A key example is the first introduction of Joe to Parrish's family: The scene milks the humor of Parrish's inability to come up with a name for Death until it falls flat.

Unlike its predecessor, Black also seems unsure how to play the inherent comedy of Death on vacation. There are a few scenes where Joe discovers the joys of everyday pleasures, from the spring of a bed to the savoriness of peanut butter. But these light moments are few and far in between the much more earnest sequences in which Joe struggles with newfound feelings of love, and Parrish agonizes over the legacy of his life.

Hopkins turns in his usual strong performance, though he seems uncomfortable at times, perhaps because of the weightiness of the proceedings. Forlani, one of the film's pleasures, is radiant and vulnerable at the same time. Pitt is more convincing as the ill-fated young man than as Black. The supporting players, including Tambor and Marcia Gay Harden, are welcome diversions.

By the sentimental end, when the emotional points are hammered home by fireworks and Thomas Newman's deafening score, I felt a little dead inside myself. -- P.L.



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