FILM REVIEW: The Descendants

Remind me to get my affairs in order before I go water skiing again. Another George Clooney movie already generating Oscar buzz for Best Picture (oh please) and Best Actor (no way), "The Descendants" leaves you begging for less: less Clooney, less coma, less narrative voice-over, and most of all, less Hawaiian music. The thin plot about a family selling the last bit of pristine land in all of Hawaii to evil developers for a boatload of cash takes a backseat to the mother in a coma, post-accident, for just about the entire movie. She's seen clutching a couple of washcloths in her bony hands far too often, and her yellowing, sunken cheeks have so much screen time they probably had their own dressing room.

Clooney plays the absent workaholic father to two daughters he hardly knows, one still a little girl and the other a wise-to-the world, foul-mouthed teenager, but by the end they are all bosom buddies, snuggling on the couch and sharing chocolate chocolate-chip ice cream out of one bowl with one spoon (gross) after mom is safely out to sea, and I do mean out to sea. Along the way we are flashed a few lovely shots of Hawaii, but it's always the exact same spot so don't come expecting a travelogue. We also see actor Beau Bridges playing a hippie with long hair and a big paunch, and that mother in a coma in her hospital bed....oh, did I already mention her?

It could have been great. It could have been a contender, about family and the land and posterity. Instead it's a garden variety chick-flick about an extramarital affair with a real estate agent. There are some fine performances, notably by the youngsters, and one funny line which I can't remember but I know I laughed out loud. Other than that, unless you are a pre-med student planning on specializing in critical care, skip it.