How very ironic. Cecelia Ahern and her chick-lit producing compadres may have defined and chronicled modern Ireland but the makers of P.S. I Love You don’t appear to have paid a blind bit of notice. Their Ireland, though slightly more dignified than the potato-scratching hellhole found in Strength And Honour, is hardly the salubrious neighbourhood of Ms. Ahern’s milieu. No sir, ‘tis a mad place with green hills and ‘the craic’.
Before we even get there, we have Hiberno-American blarney to contend with. As the film opens loveable Irish rogue Gerry (Scottish actor Gerard Butler) is noisily and happily married to prissy American Holly (Hilary Swank). Their raucous domestic bliss is – sniff – short lived. Within minutes, we’re listening to a twinkly-eyed priest singing ‘Fairytale Of New York’ at Gerry’s funeral. Holly’s mother (Kathy Bates) clucks with concern. The obligatory rom-dram group of friends (Gina Gershon, Lisa Kudrow) make equally sympathetic noises. Everybody gets hammered.
Lost without her spouse, Holly becomes despondent until her 30th birthday cake arrives with a taped message from her late husband urging her to ‘celebrate herself’. Before you can say ‘oh, so when they’re dead they remember birthdays’, another letter follows. It’s the second of ten monthly messages Gerry has left behind to ease Holly’s sorrow.
By now, you may be asking yourself why Hilary Swank signed up for this. Well, to be fair, this is one of her better script choices (The Reaping, anyone? Freedom Writers?) The dialogue is lively as these things go. The supporting cast is downright starry. And as with Ms. Ahern’s book, the film succeeds as a marriage of romantic wish-fulfilment and self-help manual. Nobody will mistake this with a great screen weepie, but Holly’s compellingly narcissistic, Oprah-fied ‘journey’ will surely do for right here, right now.