Without Walking on Water, Gifted Smith Buoys 'Seven'

It's difficult to gauge exactly how much to say or not say about "Seven Pounds," a film whose chief pleasure -- and it is a powerful one -- derives from the essential mystery surrounding its enigmatic title. What weighs seven pounds? And what does it have to do with the seven strangers sought out by the obviously troubled IRS agent Ben Thomas (Will Smith), who opens the film with this portentous voice-over narration:

"In seven days, God created the world. In seven seconds, I shattered mine."

It's a mystery that won't remain much of one for long, given the Internet chatter, the trailers and the celebrity interviews that simultaneously whet and dull the appetite of our movie-obsessed culture. Not to mention the fact that critics like me have to write about the damn thing. But I will try to do so without spoiling it for the people who want to walk into the theater, as I did, knowing as few specifics about this movie as possible.

It's not as if the film is some delicate flower, either. It's a solidly made thing, more like a rock, really. That's thanks in large part to Smith's performance, which is understated but strong, planted firmly on the ground despite the film's underlying spiritual themes.

Who is Ben Thomas? For the longest time, it's hard to know exactly. An arrogant, perhaps even psychopathic tax man? Early on, we see him conducting what can only be called, at best, unorthodox audits, and at worst, harassment of people who owe money to the feds. What makes it worse is that all these people seem to be suffering from health crises, too. One (Tim Kelleher) needs a bone marrow transplant; another (Rosario Dawson) has a bum ticker. On one occasion, Ben harangues a blind customer-service rep for a mail-order meat company (Woody Harrelson) by phone. For no other reason than because the hero of this movie is, by all evidence, a real so-and-so.

More precisely, Ben comes across as part stalker, part con man, posing creepily inappropriate questions one minute -- to people whose names he seems to be maintaining on some sort of checklist -- and then sweet-talking them the next. Even his IRS credentials start to look suspect after we see him, in flashback, working for what looks like an aerospace manufacturing company.

What the heck is going on here?

Turns out Ben is something less -- and something much, much more -- than he appears. As he did in "The Pursuit of Happyness" (also directed by Gabriele Muccino), Smith plays a down-on-his-luck Everyman who rises above his circumstances with almost superhuman will. He's Hancock, without the ability to fly. Hints are given, slowly, that something tragic has happened to him. Something that affected -- here's that number again -- seven other people. And now he's trying to make it right.

But if Ben really is a superhero, he's one who's more on the order of Jesus Christ than any costumed crusader with the ability to leap over tall buildings. His gift, such as it is, is nothing more than himself.

The movie is pretty unabashed about that all-but-corny sentiment: Each of us has something to give. Smith, on the other hand, wears the mantle of a martyr (which is what his character really is) less easily. That is to say, more believably. His Ben is charismatic but diffident, tortured and confident at the same time. He's a mess. And we buy it, whole hog.

As he embarks on a relationship with Dawson's character, Emily -- one that grows from benefactor to friend to lover to, well, you'll see -- Ben seems unable to decide whom he wants to be or whom he's willing to let Emily, and ultimately us, see. Smith is such a good actor that he makes his character's contradictions a strength, not a weakness. It's one of the clearest portrayals of a character's doubt, and ultimate resolution, I've seen in a long while. Ben might be fuzzy, but he never lacks focus.

Dawson's Emily, for her part, humanizes Ben, keeping him from turning into something that, at least on screenwriter Grant Nieporte's page, sounds like a caricature of maudlin and grandiose self-sacrifice. If any character in the film comes close to this, it's Harrelson's Ezra, a man whose goodness is almost too saintly. There's a difference, in the world of "Seven Pounds," between being a victim and being a martyr.

But Smith's presence looms large enough to keep everything and everyone in line here. As he did in "Happyness," the actor anchors the film and its potential gasbaggery on terra firma. It's a platform built around one uncomplicated, but sometimes difficult-to-embrace, truth.

You see, Ben isn't really the son of God, after all. Or even very much of a hero. He's just a man. And when it comes right down to it, the film asks, isn't that hard enough?

Seven Pounds (113 minutes, at area theaters) is rated PG-13 for disturbing thematic content, some bloody imagery and a scene of sensuality.