August Rush is a cavalcade of awful. It really hits you full bore, both barrels with stupidity, and you’re already wondering what the hell you’ve gotten yourself in to about seven minutes in. It’s just getting started though, you’ll try to imagine things will get better but you’ve already sealed your fate. Unless you’re on an aisle seat near the back you’re in for one nasty ride.
The story is not terribly complex in theory. Freddie Highmore plays an orphan musical prodigy who wants to find his parents. He escapes from the orphanage (do they still call them that? Is it a treatment center or something instead? Assisted living? I got nothing.) and makes his way to New York City where he’s befriended by crazy man Robin Williams. Williams recognizes his immense talent, the kid can play any instrument just about instantly and he hears music in the sidewalk cracks. From then on it’s a race to see what will win out. Will parents Keri Russell and Jonathan Rhys Meyers realize they have a genius little son? Will they find each other? Will Freddie become a huge musical star? Can Terrence Howard get this credit removed from his IMDB listing? So it goes, on and on.
I wouldn’t say the issue is the amount of conflicts that need resolution though. Plenty of movies trade on all kinds of craziness going down, and even more bank on multiple plot threads and non-linear progression. What August Rush fails to note is you can’t just write something to fit the script without first pondering if there’s a chance in hell that it could actually happen. This is where the movie falls completely apart, when you realize they aren’t going to explain anything, instead they are going to bludgeon you with “I love you so much!” and “You’ve got a gift kid!” nonsense. That’s what it is too, because the film doesn’t ever warm any of the topics up, it just throws them on the pile, Keri Russell didn’t even realize she had a kid, her dad is an ass, Freddie can read/write sheet music within seconds, Jonathan Rhys Meyers quit the band when he was young. Again, and pardon the repetition, on and on it goes.
The only saving grace this film has is the music. When Freddie is learning, or one of the leads is playing music… ah, bliss. It’s a period where there isn’t cheesy dialogue, where there aren’t horrifically idiotic plot devices. The music is the thing you see, it’s the only thing the film even bothers respecting. There simply isn’t enough of it though, and as the music fades into the distance the only sound you’ll hear is your brain screaming for release.
