Given how polarized our country has become, it’s refreshing to see a story that involves community members selflessly coming together for a common purpose.
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| Faced with stacks of overdue notices, Sharon (Hilary Swank) helps Ed (Alan Ritchson) separate them into three piles, from "it can wait" to "extremely urgent." |
Scripters Kelly Fremon Craig and Meg Tilly haven’t strayed far from what went down in Louisville, KY, in late 1993 and early ’94: a winter still remembered for a massive storm that dumped almost 16 inches of snow in a single night, killed at least five people, and left much of the city without power.
Ed Schmitt remembers it for an entirely different reason ... but that’s getting ahead of things.
Gunn opens his film on tragedy, as Ed (Alan Ritchson) loses his wife Theresa (Amy Acker, seen only fleetingly) to Wegener’s disease, a rare and horrific condition that leads to organ failure. He’s left to function as a single parent to young daughters Ashley (Skywalker Hughes) and Michelle (Emily Mitchell).
His wife’s loss isn’t the end of Ed’s anguish; Michelle was born with liver disease, which has worsened to the point that the little girl desperately needs a transplant. But that’s expensive, and dealing with Theresa’s illness and death left Ed with nothing but bills and overdue notices; he’s a blue-collar roofer with no means of quickly raising the necessary cash.
Elsewhere in the city, hard-living hairdresser Sharon Stevens (Hilary Swank) is on the fast track to alcoholic extinction. Her adult son wants nothing to do with her, and best friend Rose (Tamala Jones) can’t get her to acknowledge the drinking problem.
Then — proving anew that sometimes the best way to help yourself, is to help somebody else — Sharon spots a newspaper article that describes the Schmitt family’s plight, and appeals for help.
She impulsively decides to provide some.
But that’s an uphill sell, particularly after she crashes Theresa’s funeral service (a teeth-grindingly embarrassing sequence that’s almost impossible to endure, due to Swank’s performance). Even so, Sharon’s self-destructive tendencies are matched by an equally strong stubborn streak; she’s not one to take “no” for an answer.
She therefore turns into a ferociously persistent, one-woman public relations machine ... albeit after a rocky start. (Political campaign managers should be so doggedly tenacious.)
Despite his initial doubts and mistrust, Ed eventually succumbs to Sharon’s perseverance; he simply lacks other options.
And this is when the story really takes off.
Ritchson, best known as the embodiment of Lee Child’s Jack Reacher on the Amazon TV series, is a terrific example of casting against type; he’s perfect as Ed. Ritchson certainly has the build and bulk of a roofer, but — this is key — he persuasively conveys the man’s anguish and helplessness. Ed’s gaze says it all: His strength, physical presence and determination simply aren’t enough. The crisis is beyond his ability to handle.
He's desperate, and needs help.
Sharon also is desperate, albeit in an entirely different way. Swank’s richly nuanced performance suggests that, deep down, Sharon understands that she needs to become this family’s “ordinary angel.” It gives her focus and urgency (and you’ve gotta love Swank’s honeyed Kentucky drawl). As the days pass, she blossoms from out-of-control alcoholic to a woman of purpose ... even though the urge to drink remains constant.
Craig and Tilly’s script soft-pedals the latter; it seems likely that Sharon would have endured some lapses. But that’s a forgivable omission.
Jones is a hoot as the warm-hearted, tart-tongued Rose: the “voice of reckoning” who isn’t about to let Sharon succumb to her demons. Nancy Travis is terrific as Ed’s mother: the indomitable family rock who holds everything together, as matters become more dire.
Drew Powell makes the most of his brief role as Pastor Dave Stone, who’s instrumental in creating the help network that leads to the newspaper article that Sharon spots.
Skywalker Hughes, recognized as the wise-beyond-her-years daughter of the title character in television’s Joe Pickett, is equally memorable here; she nails the “worried older sister” vibe. Little Emily Mitchell is achingly tragic, as Michelle becomes more wan and fragile.
The film takes two key liberties with actual fact. Hughes and Mitchell play the girls as slightly older than their counterparts, who were (respectively) 5 and 3 when these events went down. More significantly, Ashley was born with the same liver disease, and already had undergone a transplant prior to her younger sister going into crisis.
Skipping the latter detail is understandable; it would have been too much trauma for one movie, and unbalanced Gunn’s desired blend of tragedy and triumph.
But what happens, as the film hits its third act, is totally faithful to reality ... and absolutely amazing. “Heartwarming” is an insufficient descriptor; you’ll leave this film with the broadest smile possible.
Which, clearly, is what all involved intended.
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