Oh Matt Damon, why do you do this to me?

Every now and again Matt’s artistic judgement seems to completely fail, and this is one of those occasions.

A ridiculous premise (a man has a gift for speaking to dead people) is the first thing wrong.  

Two other storylines don’t weave seamlessly together – the bereaved twin child isn’t cute, engaging or even grieving enough, and the chic French woman isn’t enigmatic but just smug and above all, sulky.  And I mean teenage sulky, not Gallic sulky.

The ending contrives to have them all in the same place at the same time and is insipid, simplistic and pointless.

And shame on you Clint Eastwood for wasting 2 hours of my time.

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