RaveVlog

The problem is that "Heaven is for Real" cannot leave well-enough alone. It has to show its hand at all times. It destroys the beautiful mystery of Colton’s experience and uses improper methods to shame the unconverted. Preaching to the choir is just fine by me, as I was once a member of that choir. But doing victory laps, sticking your tongue out at non-members and hi-fiving the choir while chanting "Amirite, amirite?" does not help the cause.

For example: In distress, Todd visits a therapist who is not a Christian. Their conversation starts off interesting, with Todd citing that perhaps her non-belief will help him put things in perspective. When she offers a scientific explanation that the brain induces hallucinogenic chemicals when a person is near death, Todd gives her a kiss-off line about not having faith. Later, we see this same shrink at Todd’s church. Why is she there? Did one accusatory line turn her into Shirley Caesar?

Another example: Colton tells us about his Heaven, and it’s vivid enough from his words. But Wallace also has to show it to us, which can only lead to disappointment because it’s incredibly cheesy and stereotypical. There are angels (who don’t dance on the head of a pin because this is Protestant Heaven), a population that proves I never had a shot at getting past the Pearly Gates, and of course, Jesus. While I rolled my eyes at Heaven’s depiction, I loved how, for a time, Wallace keeps Jesus’ face off camera. He has an aura of mystery and a calming voice, but never faces us; we can project our own expectations as to appearance.

Unfortunately, "Heaven is for Real" just HAS to show us Jesus’ face and, unlike the hippie in those paintings your grandma had on her wall (or in the case of my grandma, the picture that looked suspiciously like Nick Ashford from Ashford & Simpson), Jesus bears an uncanny resemblance to Kenny Loggins. "This is it," I said to myself. Thankfully, the movie was over.

Kinnear makes a fine preacher and a good comic foil. I liked him, and I liked his last sermon in which he reflects on how people measure miracles with yardsticks when they should be looking for them in much smaller measurements. The widescreen cinematography by veteran Dean Semler is gorgeous to look at (it’s mostly outside, so the art direction is by God) and Wallace directs the tight, quiet moments with such grace that I resented when he constantly went loud and broad.

I really wanted to like this movie, but it kept poking me in the eye every time I got close to it. My two star, middle of the road rating seems appropriate for a preacher’s kid who left the flock 20 years ago, destined never to return. Add two stars to my rating if you’re a true believer who goes to church every Sunday. Now subtract half a star from that, because you know God’ll strike you for lying about going every Sunday.

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