PREMIERE'S REVIEW (posted 11/2/07)

After his wife dies, sci-fi novelist David Gordon (Cusack, coming off like the square, suburban brother to his Rob Gordon in High Fidelity) reluctantly decides to adopt a pale, skittish moppet who thinks he's from Mars. Six-year-old Dennis (Coleman) hides from the sunlight in an Amazon.com box, eats only Lucky Charms, wears a weight belt made of rusty batteries so as not to float away, and rasps in a punishingly precious whisper. Ain't that eccentric and cute? Actually, no, it's a bit creepy, since these "quirks" are an unaddressed cry for help in this generic tonal mess that switches to light rom-com mode whenever any of its complicated-fatherhood drama starts to get too realistically sobering. Ever the great homogenizers, Hollywood screenwriters Seth E. Bass and Jonathan Tolins warped David Gerrold's semi-autobiographical book of the same title by transforming its gay author into a straight role, and smoothing over his specific parental struggles into something "more palatable" for the masses. Sigh.

Filmed in 2005, the first of two Cusack widower flicks this season (the weepier and more indie Grace is Gone hits theaters in December) Martian Child is also a Franken-schmaltz monster of cobbled-together Cusack movie parts. Is there any surprise that the sensitive, boyish charmer still needs to grow up? That he verbally spars with real-life sister Joan, bickers with his Ice Harvest cohort Oliver Platt, or tries to deceive his Grifters costar Anjelica Huston? Cusack gives it his all anyway, his puppy-eyed emoting almost charismatic enough to make this shapeless cliché fest worth mentioning. And if that's not enough to win you over, there's a beloved golden retriever to compete with the kleptomaniac kid for heartstring pulling, too-good-to-be-true love interest Amanda Peet (whose small supporting role grew because studio market-testing demanded), and an easily overcome battle with adoption services who want to pry Dennis away from David. Who saw that coming? Oh yes, everyone.

Mind you, none of this is hardened cynicism talking. There is a bona fide deficiency in warm, humanist cinema. But those with discerning tastes will likely be put off as director Menno Meyjes tries his damndest to get us to cry, be uplifted, and care about the blandest of personalities, all without any fear of discomfort or a healthy need for plausibility. When that doesn't work, as it didn't for test audiences? That's why they invented reshoots, which this kiddie K-PAX most certainly employed.

— Aaron Hillis