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The film centers on three people, a blue-collar American, a French journalist and a London school boy, who set out on a spiritual journey after death touches their lives in different ways.
I realize it's bad manners to be flip about a movie that emblazons its heart on its sleeve. But Hereafter, soggy with portentous uplift, invites that response.
Eastwood fails to infuse any moments of suspense or heart into the story and when all is said and done, Hereafter is an anticlimactic, sleepy and momentum-less mess of a film.
The last 30 minutes of the film hint at what it might have been if someone had whipped that script into shape; the idea of exploring experiences of the afterlife was a great one, and Eastwood certainly has the vision to pull it off.
Though I found Hereafter meandering and occasionally sentimental, I couldn't help but admire Clint Eastwood's ambition in taking on-headfirst-the greatest fact of human existence.