Collateral Beauty

Christmastime might seem like the worst time to watch a drama about grief—especially that soul-hollowing grief over the death of one’s child. But considering all the friends and family we lose over a lifetime, a movie like Collateral Beauty actually seems quite appropriate for the season. Like Christmas classics such as It’s a Wonderful Life, this movie delivers timeless moral, philosophical, and practical lessons.

Howard Inlet (Will Smith) is a charismatic, successful New York ad executive who loses his 6-year-old daughter to a rare illness. Afterward, he bikes aimlessly around the city and wanders about his office as a zombielike shell of himself. To express the injustice of life, he pens rage-filled letters to Death, Time, and Love—three universal experiences he once defined as what connects every human being on earth. Thus, in rejecting death, time, and love, Howard is also turning away from humanity, and from those still living who love him.

Howard’s three worried friends and co-workers (Edward Norton, Kate Winslet, and Michael Peña) intercept his letters and, in an effort to shake him out of depression, hire three amateur theater actors to personify the recipients of the letters: “Death” is a comedic, theatrical older lady (Helen Mirren) in a navy-blue beret; “Time” is an edgy teenager (Jacob Latimore) on a skateboard; and “Love” is a sweet, emotional idealist (Keira Knightley) who finds this whole project very unbecoming. Reminiscent of A Christmas Carol, Death, Time, and Love take turns visiting Howard in human form and teaching him something about themselves.

What happens during these meetings is a clash of perspectives between a grieving father’s hard-to-answer questions and the three stage actors’ hard-to-accept pontifications about abstract themes. Meanwhile, Howard’s mind and heart are wrestling one another. At times, he’s all heart: spitting in anger at Love for “betraying” him, or brimming with tears at the mere mention of his child. Other times, he’s all mind: stacking thousands of dominoes into complex structures, quoting Einstein to dismiss Time as a “stubborn illusion,” seeking logical answers to questions of his heart. His broken mind and heart elude him when he tries to shut them down, and they overwhelm him when he tries to fix them.

Then someone reminds him, “You lost a child, Howard. You’ll never be fixed.” That recognition—that it’s healthy to mourn the loss of something irreplaceable and actively seek hope, community, and beauty in the depths of anguish—allows Howard to begin healing and harmonizing his mind and heart. This movie’s message mirrors something profoundly Biblical, particularly fitting as we celebrate the birth of Christ: God in human form entered into the grief and chaos of mankind, and physically wept at death. But even as Jesus expressed sympathy with the pain and weakness of humanity, He also gifted us with eternal hope by conquering death and sin, then charged us to love one another as He loves us.

Collateral Beauty, rated PG-13 for its heavy themes, will most likely wrench tears from viewers instead of holiday cheer. But it’s a worthy reminder that this festive season is a time when many will remember a loved one who is estranged, suffering, or no longer alive. Many will mourn of time past, of opportunities lost, of empty seats at the dining table. For those people, this movie is a comforting hand on the shoulder: It acknowledges the persistence and depth of such sorrow, while reminding us to notice the “collateral beauty” within and surrounding it. Those who believe the Bible can go a step further: As we grieve and mourn, we can also worship and hope.