The Discovery (Charlie McDowell, 2017)

Robert Redford is a scientist who discovers another 'plane of existence' after death (he's really cranking out these existential roles now, presumably while he still can). This leads to a worldwide suicide epidemic as people decide to cash their chips with the knowledge that there is something out there. A few years later, his estranged neurologist son, a sceptic, goes to find out what he's doing in seclusion and discovers that the research has progressed to the point of establishing what there actually is in that plane.
As is so often the case with high-concept sci-fi like this, the initial premise, with its consequences on the reasoning of credulous people, is much more engrossing than what the execution actually turns out to be, which is a sort of Flatliners crossed with Another Earth. It commits the usual sin of thinking that the difficult scientific feasibility part is really just a secondary concern, whereas it's vital: without some rigour applied to that part of the story (there is not even a token attempt to explain the 'scientific undeniability' of Redford's initial findings), it just ends up as woolly as the fond imaginings of the people in it who are taken in by the dream of a continued existence.

4/10