This film asks the question, can two doctors, married to each other but separated by, I believe, death, find love and happiness in spite of that obstacle? The answer, since this is a Kevin Costner vehicle, is, of course, yes. And don't you skeptics go around with your snide remarks and well-intentioned hints about grief, either. Make room for the believers to stand up for communication from the beyond - like the dead person causing a dragonfly paperweight to suddenly fall off its table; or her parrot to have a conniption fit; or, scariest of all, to make the children in the pediatric oncology ward she used to head suddenly start painting and drawing wavy crosses over and over again with their coloring sets.
What is she saying? After all, she died in a bus crash in the jungles of Venezuela six months earlier, pregnant at the time but insistent on helping those poor third-world children. The only thing is, her body was never found. Uh-oh; we know what that means. It means that poor Kevin won't rest until he - did I tell you that his wife had a kind of little birthmark on her back that sort of looks a bit like a dragonfly? Well, she did.
Where was I? Oh, with Kevin and his friends and his fellow medical people and his neighbor Kathy Bates, skeptical law professor, all of whom insist that he needs to take some time and grieve. But we know better, don't we? He will go to Venezuela, charter a plane into the Yanomami country, get to the forbidden village - did I mention the forbidden village? - and there he will find, yes, the reason for this whole mishagoss, which has taken 90 otherwise useful minutes out of our lives, at least those of us who write reviews for a living. The rest are entitled to pass.