The devil’s in the detail

A New York’s Winter’s Tale (dir. Akiva Goldsman, cert. 12A, just Winter’s Tale in the USA after its 1983 source novel by Mark Helprin) is a confused mess, involving demons (“that’s one of the new names”), an angelic flying white horse, and the unlikely casting of Will Smith as “Judge” aka Lucifer. The premise may be a bit odd, but the actors give it a good shot, led by Colin Farrell as Peter Lake, a foundling brought up by a sort of New York demon gangster, Pearly Soames (Russell Crowe).

Crowe’s American Irish accent is as fanciful as the rest of the movie. The story starts in 1885 and by 1914 Lake is an accomplished thief, trying to break away from Pearly.

The mysterious white horse helps him, but also directs him to a mansion where, trying to rob the place, he meets Beverly Penn (Jessica Brown Findlay), daughter of a newspaper magnate. She’s dying of consumption, but, unfazed by his intrusion, offers him a cup of tea (Lapsang Souchong), and love blossoms.

Pearly is on his trail, but – not really explained – Peter ends up in New York a century later, with no memory. Here he meets journalist Virginia (Jennifer Connelly) and her young daughter Abby (Ripley Sobo), who has cancer and whose fate somehow rests with Peter.

There’s a tearjerker scene “reuniting” Peter and Beverly, while Pearly – obsessive as Javert in Les Misérables – finally opts for mortality in his quest to bring down Peter. It’s thin on any theological background to the story, though it’s nice to know that the devil and all his works may be “losing” the battle.

Despite the lack of much logic (compare and contrast with Kevin Smith’s 1999 demonic comedy Dogma) there are affecting moments. It could have done with more lines like Crowe’s distrust of ideas, which “do more good than harm”.