Oh, how to explain the many ways that Winter’s Tale goes wrong, except to say . . .every way?

It’s
based on a book (that I confess to have never read), and succumbs to
every possible pitfall of adapting a novel: It feels plodding and
episodic. There’s an overly pedantic voiceover explaining its spiritual
“themes.” Character backgrounds and motivations are murky. Seemingly
significant characters show up for one scene, then disappear.

Here’s
what I could make of the plot: A thief (a raven-haired Colin Farrell,
looking a lot more like Snapes than anyone could’ve possibly intended)
runs afoul of a crime boss (Russell Crowe) who is also a henchman for
the devil. (I’d tell you who plays the devil in this film, but I’ll let
you stumble across that howler on your own.)

The thief is rescued
by a mystical white horse—alternately called a dog because…well . . .er.
. .it must be explained in the book—and falls in love with a beautiful
red-headed woman who’s dying of consumption. (She’s played by Downton Abbey’s milky-skinned Jessica Brown Findlay and any resemblance to Kate Winslet, circa her Titanic years,
is strictly intentional). Is she his destiny? His reason for living?
According to the film’s mythology, we are each given a singular miracle
in this life; the key is to find our miracle.

There is also a
lot—and I mean a lot—of talk about light and constellations and twinkly
things and fire and how good people turn into stars when they die. (To
summarize: Light good! Dark bad!)

Toward the end of the film,
Jennifer Connolly shows up as a mother of a sick child—and we’re
supposed to suddenly care desperately about both her and the child,
simply because the filmmakers want us to.

Although Winter’s Tale takes place in NY, everyone speaks with a different accent. (Hey, it’s magical realism. There are no rules!)

What
are all these good actors doing here? Did they do this film as a favor
to director Akiva Goldsman, the acclaimed screenwriter behind A Beautiful Mind and Cinderella Man? Crowe, for example, is essentially playing a supernatural version of Inspector Javert, his character in Les Misérables.
(Now on Crowe’s resume: Special skills: Accents, stage fighting,
tirelessly hunting all corners of the earth for mortal enemies.)

Look, a tiny part of me has to give props to Goldsman for at least attempting
something in the magical realism realm. We don’t see a lot of that in
Hollywood, partly because most of us are too cynical to enjoy it, but
also because magical realism is hard. If you’re going to do it, you need a confident director with a bold vision. Winter’s Tale
takes a literal-minded approach to fantastical material. It has no
sense of magic or enchantment or menace. Hell, it barely even has a
sense of romance. As Valentine’s Day gifts go, it’s a greeting card from
a second-rate New Age bookstore.

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