Clara's Heart

When a wealthy Baltimore couple lose their baby, the wife (Kathleen Quinlan) takes a rum-soaked vacation in Jamaica, and returns home with a housekeeper named Clara (Whoopi Goldberg) to watch over her 13-year-old son David (Neil Patrick Harris). David, in the new Hollywood tradition of pandering to the PG-13 market (i.e. teens), is both obnoxious and precocious. He spurns Clara, scorns-but, of course, completely understands-his mom and dad's affairs and pending divorce. Mom and Dad are, needless to say, silly rich people that don't know diddly about real love and caring. Clara-who peppers her speech with enough Jamaican homilies to make you want to sneeze-wins David over by introducing him to Jamaican immigrants, who, by and large, all laugh and dance, without a care in the world. Except for one pimp/prostitute combo who keep needling David to ask Clara about her own boy: and discover the secret of Clara's heart. (Throughout, a set of letters in Clara's mysterious red suitcase are used as bait for the curious). The filmmaker's milk Clara's "story" for all the suspense they can get (then add about 10 minutes more just to tick reviewers off). Not surprisingly, the secret has nothing to do with the red suitcase (not because the suitcase is a red herring, but because the plot is so sloppy). What is surprising is the secret itself: any reasonable tale of tragic loss would have done. But, no, we're given a whole season's worth of "Days of our Lives" in the space of two minutes. Clara's Heart is artificial, the blood pumping through its veins purely Hollywood red paint. Not recommended.