My Sister’s Keeper; what a piece of shit. Just what one would expect from a Jodi Picoult novel… if only I had known who Jodi Picoult was before I watched the film. Soppy, new-agey relationship sagas are decidedly dull unless… nope, I’ve got nothing. Decidedly dull it is.
The film is about Anna, a girl who was engineered for the primary purpose of preserving her sick sister’s life. Anna has been prodded and poked since birth and knows that she will be forced, by her parents, to donate a kidney to a cancer-riddled Kate. As her sister’s health deteriorates, Anna is confronted with the fact that, because of the purpose for which she was created, she too may not be able to live a free and full life – no cheer leading, soccer or even motherhood. Anna tells her parents that she is tired of being treated like an organ harvesting object (in theory), and proceeds to sue them for medical emancipation and the rights to her own body.
Having no preconceived knowledge of the film’s fiction-inspired stimulus, I was under the severely misguided impression that the notion of genetic engineering would raise a manic maraud of heated debate in response to the philosophical, moral and ethical complications arising from the film’s controversial premise. Apparently not. My Sister’s Keeper is a summation of sentimental sap that not even a cute little twist of plot can save from the abyss of eternal boredom. Instead of the film delving into the ethics of gene therapy and the whole ‘playing God’ scenario, it shirks its responsibility. Anna wins her case and is emancipated but is never forced to make the decision because her sister dies – a royal cop out if you ask me! Minus the Jodi Picoult melodrama, the film could’ve been cool, but wasn’t.
If a big gaping yawn is how you roll; then be my guest…