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Ervell E. Menezes finds August Rush a tearjerker with little substance
AN 11-year-old boy looks into the sky and says "I can hear music in the wind, in the air, in the light`85all you have to do is open yourself up, all you have to do is listen." Profound. Very. And you wonder what it is leading up to in August Rush. But what follows deceives and deceives badly. Is this the intuitive way of our little hero Evan Taylor (Freddie Hightmore) aka August Rush looking for something? His parents? Cut to 11 years earlier and you have a charming young Irish guitarist Louis Connelly (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) and sheltered but cute cellist Lyla Novacek (Keri Russell) meet atop New York Washington Square and spend a night of supreme bliss. But the morning after is nightmarish with Lyla whisked aware by her irate dad. Little Evan is the product of that night but is hidden away after birth and Lyla like Rip Van Winkle goes into an almighty slumber. So does the Irish guitarist. Incidentally Louis’ music is anything but impressive though it must be admitted that Lyla cello and the music of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra is the best part of the film. Of course, little Evan keeps searching for his parents and on the streets of New York, once again glorified with its Central Park, runs into a Fagin-like freak named Maxwell "Wizard" Wallace (Robin Williams) who encourages music in the kids and wants to make Evan a star and hence the change in name. Now the three principal players go their separate ways and, no prizes for guessing correctly, eventually wind up in Central Park. There are bits of gospel singing and two black kids give the film a social flavour. There’s also a kindly civic counsellor Richard Jeffries (Terrence Howard) who will have to identify the orphan. But it is fairytale stuff from start to finish. One has to just leave your thinking cap at home and may be try and enjoy the music. Director Kirsten Sheridan has his head in the clouds and an unlikely screenplay by Nick Castle and James V. Hart doesn’t help one bit. On the contrary, if one has to look for embellishments then cinematographer John Mathieson must be commended and some aerial shots of Central Park are just stunning. Still, one doesn’t go to the movies for that. Keri Russell is fresh and lovely but lovely isn’t what lovely does while Jonathan Rhys Meyers flits from the sublime to the ridiculous with little Freddie Highmore trying to make the most of his supposedly enigmatic role. Robin Williams is totally wasted in an asinine role and the others are merely academic. The treacly, tearjerker has precious little substance. It is just one long flight into never-never land.
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