Henry Poole Is Here
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The Hollywood Reporter
The biggest hole in this picture is not so much whether an audience will buy its miracles but whether an audience will care about Henry Poole. Wilson hits the same notes in virtually every scene without any change to his physical rhythms or moods.
This may sound like a satiric comedy, and its intriguing setup carries a faintly comedic tone, but the movie becomes more straight-faced as it moves along and ends up being a fairly serious examination on the nature of, and necessity for, faith.
If inciting boredom is the worst sin a filmmaker can commit, being timid is right behind it. Whether I agree with your point of view or not, I want to hear it.
Picture's tendency to lecture on the power of faith and religion and on the demerits of science seems to assume an almost childlike audience that needs to be spoon-fed Pablum.
A film that could have used some of the genuine intrigue of Pellington's thrillers to help offset the increasingly doe-eyed narrative.
Unfortunately it’s all a bit dull.
Handsomely photographed by Eric Schmidt and nicely underplayed by the actors, the film relies too much on its jukebox soundtrack to convey mood.
The A.V. Club
Henry Poole cycles through so many indie film clichés--that it continually skirts self-parody.
The film has some amusing moments and can be intriguing when it focuses on the slow transformation of a hopeless, faithless man.
A not-quite-funny comedy that devolves into a tedious discussion of miracles and redemption.
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