BRINGING Jodi Picoult's challenging novel to the big screen was always going to be a tough task, but director Nick Cassavetes just about pulls it off.
My Sister's Keeper is a moral dilemma for the modern age. Sara Fitzgerald (Cameron Diaz) and her husband Brian (Jason Patric) decide to genetically engineer a sibling to be a blood and bone-marrow donor for their sick daughter Kate (Sofia Vassilieva)
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After enduring years of painful operations to save her sister, who next needs a kidney transplant, the 11-year-old Anna (Abigail Breslin) takes her parents to court to sue for the rights to her own body.
Kate was diagnosed with leukaemia as a toddler, and her lawyer mum Sara dropped everything to look after her, never sure when the next nose-bleed might result in a lengthy hospital stint. She's clearly a supermum, but Sara's intense focus on getting Kate better, by any means, takes its toll on the rest of the family, especially when she faces a lawsuit brought by hotshot lawyer Campbell Alexander (Baldwin).
The complex web of relations between each family member is handled sensitively through a series of voiceovers from each actor.
This works, in the main, to give the viewer an insight into each character's thoughts on the situation, but occasionally these sequences, using music and sometimes grainy flashback shots to set the mood, detract from the action.
Kate's voice is one of the last to be introduced, but is perhaps the most poignant, as she reveals: "I don't mind my disease killing me, but it's killing my family too." This is the crux of the film.
Despite the 'happy family' footage we see at the start, each character is struggling under the weight of Kate's dwindling life – and no more so than the girl herself.
When Anna files a lawsuit, she claims she wants 'medical emancipation' and to keep her kidney for the simple reason that she wants to play sport and eventually have children, but it soon becomes clear there's another very pressing reason that she's desperate to hide.
Cassavetes, who won critical acclaim for The Notebook, steers the film just the right side of Hollywood schmaltz with his own brand of naturalism, and manages to keep it light for the most part, despite the storyline.
Diaz gives a competent performance as Sara, especially in her feisty exchanges with Baldwin, but it's Oscar nominee Breslin who steals the show as Anna, narrating both the opening and closing scenes.
Credit is due to 16-year-old Vassilieva for shaving her head for the entire film – and the most heartfelt scenes are between her and Breslin, who clearly developed a strong sisterly bond off-set to show such unconditional love on screen.
Fans of the book should expect an entirely different ending, and watch out for Baldwin's 'service dog' - a bizarre addition, but one that helps to lighten the mood.
Year One (12A) *What do you call a comedy without a single laugh? The punchline is: Harold Ramis's ramshackle road movie through the Paleolithic era, headlined by Jack Black and Michael Cera, two of the most gifted comic actors of their generations.
Black is an unstoppable force of nature, who brought his nervous energy to light up High Fidelity, The School Of Rock and Kung Fu Panda.
Cera adopts a more laidback, laconic delivery that perfectly suited Juno and Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist.
But put the actors side-by-side in Year One, as hunter-gatherers with a nose for adventure, and the results are painful.
"The upside-down prisoner has to pee," whimpers Cera as warm urine trickles over his face, up his nose and into his mouth in a throwaway scene that perfectly encapsulates the sophistication and artistry of Ramis's vision.
Pelt-clad primitives Zed (Black) and Oh (Cera) are incompetent and lazy, and don't pull their weight like the other men in their village.
Zed cannot master his bow and arrow, and is a woeful hunter. "I'll be back, unless something goes horribly right," he tells Oh before his latest disastrous attempt to woo Maya (June Raphael).
Likewise, Oh fails to fulfil his duties as a gatherer, nor can he turn the head of the object of his affections, Zed's sister Eema (Juno Temple).
Inevitably, the friends are banished from the tribe and embark on a quest of self-discovery through an ancient world riddled with danger.
They encounter creations such as the wheel and colourful characters including feuding brothers Cain (David Cross) and Abel (Paul Rudd), and circumcision-obsessed father Abraham (Hank Azaria) and his son Isaac (Christopher Mintz-Plasse).
Zed and Oh find courage and determination in the face of adversity, arriving in Sodom where the flamboyant high priest (Oliver Platt) threatens to sacrifice Maya and Eema to the gods.
The buddies orchestrate a daring rescue mission, but first they must outwit the captain of the guards, Sargon (Vinnie Jones).
Producer Judd Apatow's recent winning streak, which includes The 40 Year Old Virgin, Knocked Up, Superbad and Forgetting Sarah Marshall, comes to an inglorious end with Year One.
Foolishly, the script begins at the dawn of mankind and merrily incorporates biblical references, which beg unfavourable comparisons with Life Of Brian.
Monty Python's film may be 30 years old, but it boasts more laughs in the opening five minutes than Year One can muster in its entirety.
DAMON SMITH Sunshine Cleaning (15) **** Feuding sisters rediscover life amid the detritus of the recently deceased in Christine Jeffs' portrait of dysfunctional family life.
Set against the strip malls and desert of Albuquerque, Sunshine Cleaning picks at the emotional wounds of its world-weary characters and bleeds them dry of the years of jealousy and anger, which have festered beneath the surface.
In the process, painful home truths spark newfound respect and a greater closeness, flecked with earthy humour and romance.
Screenwriter Megan Holley sketches the protagonists in detail, nurturing them through the various trials and tribulations until they achieve some form of personal healing.
Oscar-nominee Amy Adams and Emily Blunt are spookily well-matched as the chalk-and-cheese siblings who always end up at loggerheads.
The actresses adopt similar speech patterns and mannerisms, and even look uncannily alike, as their heroines seek fulfilment by setting up a most unusual cleaning service.
Rose Lorkowski (Adams) was once the captain of her school's cheerleading squad and the envy of her classmates.
Now, she is a 30-something single mother trying to take care of her impressionable young son Oscar (Jason Spevack). Rose works long hours as a cleaner for little pay while her doddering get-rich-quick salesman father Joe (Alan Arkin) searches for the next big scam.
His ridiculous schemes often involve Oscar, who is expelled from his school on account of his antisocial behaviour.
While Rose toils night and day, her slacker sister Norah (Blunt) is fired from one job after another.
She is far more content to lie in bed all day and let life pass her by.
At the suggestion of her married cop lover Mac (Steve Zahn), Rose lands some work as a crime scene clean-up technician, mopping up bodily fluids after the police have gone.
"It's like cleaning up a house, but there's blood there?" clarifies Norah, who joins her sister in the ghoulish enterprise.
Surrounded by death, the two estranged siblings unexpectedly bond, reigniting fond memories of their dead actress mother, whose most famous role was as a diner waitress with the line, "I recommend the pecan pie".
Sunshine Cleaning strikes a pleasing balance between laughter and tears without ever resorting to cheap gags or cloying sentiment.
Adams convincingly portrays a faded golden girl, clinging forlornly to dreams of a life now far beyond her grasp.
She gently plucks the heartstrings, kindling palpable screen chemistry with Clifton Collins Jr, whose one-armed supplier of biohazard-removal supplies is a charming addition to the mix.
Blunt is similarly impressive, gradually revealing the grief behind Norah's spikiness, and the rapport between the female leads drives the film to its life-affirming resolution.
Arkin essentially recycles his cantankerous old-timer from Little Miss Sunshine, which landed him an Academy Award.
If it ain't broke, why fix it?
