The Sea of Trees

Van Sant seems unsure of what kind of movie he's making or what he's trying to say. It's best to just enjoy the scenery and look the other way.

No wonder Watts rules the movie. She's playing the only remotely sympathetic character; the men seem consumed by grief and guilt and platitudes.

The Sea of Trees does not work.

The Sea of Trees uses depression, cancer and suicide as manipulative devices to tug at heartstrings instead of offering insight into the human condition.

A numinous meditation on grief that's more likely to inspire laughter than tears.

A stronger movie experience than one might expect. It's anchored by a fine, understated performance by Matthew McConaughey and a deeply felt, if at times melodramatic, story that proves strangely immersive.

This schlocky dud from the trailblazing American auteur remains a hard pill to swallow, even for fans of the trio of notable actors headlining.

Part of the wonder of The Sea of Trees is that Van Sant refuses to ever actually define the journey for his characters or for his audience.

The underwhelming script for The Sea of Trees keeps weighing down McConaughey's performance as well as the rest of the movie.

I'm not saying it's great, but it's not terrible either.