Gimme that ol' time religion, a new putter
Lucas Black on the horse and Robert Duvall on the bag. (Visio Entertainment)
Seven Days in Utopia
Running time: 96 minutes
MPAA rating: G (suitable for all audiences)
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In a perfect cinematic world, a utopia, if you will, a wise, world-weary Robert Duvall on a horse would be quite enough to ignite dramatic sparks.
Utopia, however, is imagined perfection; an unobtainable, if noble, pilgrimage to a non-existent place.
"Seven Days in Utopia," lensed in the real Texas Hill Country hamlet of Utopia (85 miles northwest of San Antonio), features a somewhat real-life world-weary Duvall on a horse.
Unfortunately, that is not enough to provide inspirational, not to mention entertaining, cinema.
Based on David Cook's book "Golf's Sacred Journey: Seven Days at the Links of Utopia," the big-screen version is a warm-hearted call to religion with professional golf and the sleepy Texas Hill Country as a backdrop.
It plays like an uneasy mixture of "Tin Cup," which featured Kevin Costner as an imploding golfer on tour, "The Karate Kid" and summer Bible school at the First Baptist Church in Grand Prairie, TX, which I attended in my youth.
Lucas Black, reuniting with Duvall after sharing the screen in "Sling Blade" and "Get Low," portrays troubled golfer Luke Chisholm.
There is no gospel, according to Luke.
Browbeaten by his father into becoming the next young sensation on the pro golf tour no matter what, the Waco native has a meltdown on the course, breaks his putter over his knee and drives off to somewhere, anywhere to heal his deep emotional wounds.
Quite by chance, it would seem, he winds up in Utopia, TX. Johnny Crawford, not the actor-singer who played "The Rifleman's" son on TV in the late '50s-early '60s, but a beloved town character played by Duvall, takes the young man under his wing.
Seeing something of himself in Luke, Johnny offers to teach the lost soul in golf spikes the proper way to play golf in a week. He also tosses in how to get your head right and how to make the Bible a companion and life guide, although the life lessons come semi-stealthly and as an added bonus.
"Seven Days in Utopia" would work better as a G-rated golf ball swatter, Bible-thumper if an experienced director, like Duvall, for instance, took on added duties as director. Duvall directed himself to a best actor Oscar nomination in 1997 as a Texas preacher in "The Apostle."
First-timer Matt Russell, a visual effects coordinator sliding into the directing chair, appears more concerned with how things look (and there are some gorgeous shots) than how flat and hokey scenes are playing.
Duvall is fine, although uninspired, in a role he could play in his sleep.
Co-star Black, though, acts like he is sleep-walking much of the time. If Black has another facial expression other than the stone-faced one on display throughout here, I'd love to see it.
Some will call "Seven Days in Utopia" sentimental hokum that means well and speaks from the heart, but -- like the lightning bugs trapped in a jar in a slightly strained life lesson scene -- fails to ignite into memorable cinema.
I, unfortunately, am among those naysayers.
From this aisle seat, this is a difficult stance to take for three reasons.
(1) Duvall has deeply moved me emotionally and intellectually throughout much of my 31-year career as a film critic. I will never forget Duvall's broken-down country-singer/songwriter Mac Sledge in "Tender Mercies" (1983). Sledge convinced me when he said, "I don't trust happiness. I never did, I never will."
(2) This is a small-budget film obviously made with a lot of love for God, film making and the Texas Hill Country.
(3) After over three decades offering my opinion on movies to anyone who would listen, read or watch, this is my final review of a debuting film.
(More on that to come soon.)
Utopia, however, is imagined perfection; an unobtainable, if noble, pilgrimage to a non-existent place.
"Seven Days in Utopia," lensed in the real Texas Hill Country hamlet of Utopia (85 miles northwest of San Antonio), features a somewhat real-life world-weary Duvall on a horse.
Unfortunately, that is not enough to provide inspirational, not to mention entertaining, cinema.
Based on David Cook's book "Golf's Sacred Journey: Seven Days at the Links of Utopia," the big-screen version is a warm-hearted call to religion with professional golf and the sleepy Texas Hill Country as a backdrop.
It plays like an uneasy mixture of "Tin Cup," which featured Kevin Costner as an imploding golfer on tour, "The Karate Kid" and summer Bible school at the First Baptist Church in Grand Prairie, TX, which I attended in my youth.
Lucas Black, reuniting with Duvall after sharing the screen in "Sling Blade" and "Get Low," portrays troubled golfer Luke Chisholm.
There is no gospel, according to Luke.
Browbeaten by his father into becoming the next young sensation on the pro golf tour no matter what, the Waco native has a meltdown on the course, breaks his putter over his knee and drives off to somewhere, anywhere to heal his deep emotional wounds.
Quite by chance, it would seem, he winds up in Utopia, TX. Johnny Crawford, not the actor-singer who played "The Rifleman's" son on TV in the late '50s-early '60s, but a beloved town character played by Duvall, takes the young man under his wing.
Seeing something of himself in Luke, Johnny offers to teach the lost soul in golf spikes the proper way to play golf in a week. He also tosses in how to get your head right and how to make the Bible a companion and life guide, although the life lessons come semi-stealthly and as an added bonus.
"Seven Days in Utopia" would work better as a G-rated golf ball swatter, Bible-thumper if an experienced director, like Duvall, for instance, took on added duties as director. Duvall directed himself to a best actor Oscar nomination in 1997 as a Texas preacher in "The Apostle."
First-timer Matt Russell, a visual effects coordinator sliding into the directing chair, appears more concerned with how things look (and there are some gorgeous shots) than how flat and hokey scenes are playing.
Duvall is fine, although uninspired, in a role he could play in his sleep.
Co-star Black, though, acts like he is sleep-walking much of the time. If Black has another facial expression other than the stone-faced one on display throughout here, I'd love to see it.
Some will call "Seven Days in Utopia" sentimental hokum that means well and speaks from the heart, but -- like the lightning bugs trapped in a jar in a slightly strained life lesson scene -- fails to ignite into memorable cinema.
I, unfortunately, am among those naysayers.
From this aisle seat, this is a difficult stance to take for three reasons.
(1) Duvall has deeply moved me emotionally and intellectually throughout much of my 31-year career as a film critic. I will never forget Duvall's broken-down country-singer/songwriter Mac Sledge in "Tender Mercies" (1983). Sledge convinced me when he said, "I don't trust happiness. I never did, I never will."
(2) This is a small-budget film obviously made with a lot of love for God, film making and the Texas Hill Country.
(3) After over three decades offering my opinion on movies to anyone who would listen, read or watch, this is my final review of a debuting film.
(More on that to come soon.)
