Zac Efron and the rest of the crew behind “Charlie St. Cloud” want their movie to be weepy, soulful, inspirational, cathartic, ethereal, life-affirming and who knows what else on the New Age emotional barometer.
Too bad they didn’t aim to make it a little interesting.
This melodrama about a young man who puts his life in stasis after his kid brother’s death is a bore, despite a somewhat clever twist — somewhat because it momentarily jolts the story out of the doldrums before the movie settles back to sleep.
Adapted by director Burr Steers and screenwriters Craig Pearce and Lewis Colick from Ben Sherwood’s novel “The Death and Life of Charlie St. Cloud,” the movie deals with the biggest of issues — why are we here, where are we bound? — with the blandest of greeting-card sentiments.
While Efron aims to show he’s more than just a “High School Musical” heartthrob, he’s vacuous in the title role here, sleepwalking through what’s meant to be a journey from the deepest despair toward new hope.

Efron’s Charlie has everything going his way in his Pacific Northwest hometown. He’s a master yachtsman about to graduate from high school and head off to college with a sailing scholarship. His female classmates swoon at the sight of him. He’s best friend, idol and father figure to his young brother, Sam (Charlie Tahan).
Then Sam dies in a terrible accident, while Charlie is revived after a near-death experience that leaves him seeing dead people — not in a creepy “The Sixth Sense” manner but in an everyday, how’s-your-afterlife-going sort of way.
Five years later, Charlie’s stuck in limbo, working as the caretaker at the cemetery where Sam is buried and still looking after his little brother, who keeps popping up from beyond to hang out.
What could ever shock Charlie back to life? Why, the love of a fine woman, of course.
Just as she’s about to head off on a ‘round-the-world solo sailing race, Charlie’s high school classmate Tess Carroll (Amanda Crew) comes back into his world, rekindling his interest in living people, the sea and everything else for which he once had a passion.
The surprise turn in the plot initially leaves hope for something better than a predictable Hollywood ending. But if you give any thought to that little twist, it makes no sense, even within a story where a guy chats with dead folks. So best not to give it any thought.
Kim Basinger and Ray Liotta appear in oddly fleeting roles — she as Charlie and Sam’s single mom, he as a paramedic who revived Charlie and asks him the Big Question — why’d you get to come back, kid?
Donal Logue also is on hand for a meager part as Tess’ sailing coach, an insignificant character except for his silly name — Tink Weatherbee.
Steers, who made the decent teen tale “Igby Goes Down” and also directed Efron in the piffling comedy “17 Again,” does a nice job putting some soul in the scenery, even if he can’t manage the same for the characters. The sailing images are lovely, the seascape is bleakly beautiful, and the town is pretty as a postcard.
Efron certainly looks pretty, too, and since he’s there for almost every frame of “Charlie St. Cloud,” maybe that’s enough for his young fans, even if no one’s home behind Charlie’s cloudy eyes. (AP)

NEW YORK: The title of “Who Killed Nancy” — a new documentary opened Friday about the death of Nancy Spungen — is a little misleading.
Director Alan G. Parker doesn’t really know who killed her, but he is pretty sure who didn’t: her boyfriend, punk legend Sid Vicious. Parker is no small authority on the subject, having written several books and made several documentaries about the Sex Pistols and its most infamous member. This project, based on his book “Sid Vicious: No One Is Innocent,” apparently is the result of a long-ago personal request made to him by Sid’s mother, who committed suicide in 1996.
Unfortunately, “Nancy,” like so many position-staking docs, makes an intriguing case without being fully convincing or certainly definitive. Although there’s plenty of food for thought, there’s no smoking gun. Or, in this case, blood-stained knife.
But there are plenty of reasons to disagree with the official NYPD ruling that the punk rocker stabbed Spungen to death, even though he died of a drug overdose before he could be put on trial.
Among the points made is that Vicious had taken a huge dose of Tuinol, a powerful barbiturate, shortly before the murder took place and could not have been conscious during that period. Fingerprints of six people with police records were found in their room at the Chelsea Hotel, but none ever were questioned.
The pair supposedly was flush after he had recently been paid in cash for his recent gigs, but no money was found. The knife that killed Nancy was left lying on a suitcase wiped clean, which hardly jibes with Sid’s drug-addled “confession.” And so on.
Buttressing the film’s contentions is a series of recollections and testimonials from figures who knew the pair, from Vicious’ Sex Pistols predecessor Glen Matlock to friends, roadies, groupies and hangers-on. (RTRS)