From The Movie Snob:

Birth (D). O Nicole! How many of these crimes against movie-going humanity can I forgive? Who has been vetting your scripts for you? After your success in Moulin Rouge and your conquest of the Academy for The Hours (okay, I didn’t see that one, but I’m sure you did a good job), I thought you were through with second- and third-rate cinematic dreck. Cold Mountain was pretty good, but let’s face it—you didn’t quite pull off the whole hard-scrabble-farmer thing. And then there was The Human Stain. And Dogville. And the terrible Stepford Wives remake. And now there’s this oddity of a movie in which you play Anna, a woman who is about to get married ten years after the unexpected death of her first husband. Out of nowhere materializes a creepy, seemingly emotionless ten-year-old boy named Sean (like your dead husband) who insists that he actually is your dead husband. Your director needed kid gloves to pull this one off without getting into a minefield of really disturbing stuff. He didn’t have them, and there is some really disturbing stuff in this movie. You know what I’m talking about. Straighten up.