Jeebus wept. If this fortnight’s Red State takes religious fervour to terrifying extremes, Soul Surfer goes to the opposite end of the spectrum: pure sanitised tripe. This is the type of God-loving that depicts the Virgin Mary with blonde L’oreal locks, paints a crucified Jesus with abs Abercrombie & Fitch models would be proud of, and ruins a truly inspirational real life story by letting its sickly religious message slowly but constantly drip from it, like Chinese water torture.
The charming Anna Sophia Robb plays teen surfer Bethany Hamilton, who overcame losing her left arm in a shark attack and returned to professional surfing. Raised in the paradise setting of Hawaii, ideal child Bethany volunteers at her Carrie Underwood-led Bible group and has a harmonious relationship with groovy surfer parents Dennis Quaid and Helen Hunt, who, when not trying to wrangle some emotion out of the tears-by-numbers script, awkwardly attempt to ride the waves. (Hunt has an Oscar, let the woman keep her feet on dry land and her dignity intact.)

The completely tension and gore-free shark attack aside, Soul Surfer also feels rigorously cleansed of any humour, romance or even excitement that would endear it to its target audience. Bethany’s unbelievably calm reaction to her injury may be representative of the strength the real Hamilton mined from her faith, but it robs the story of any real emotional arc, and becomes unrelatable and preachy. Her triumphant return to the water never feels as difficult or impressive as it should, and as she finds time to turn the other cheek to an uncharitable competitor and heals the pain of the survivors of the Indonesian tsunami with a surfboard and a can-do attitude, Soul Surfer rides on alternating waves of the saccharine and borderline offensive.
Decent performances all around, but the actors, audience and, most importantly, Bethany Hamilton deserve a better film.