Based on the 2003 book by the prolific Jodi Picoult-she’s published fifteen novels since 1992-this well-made chemo weepie poses a tough issue of medical ethics without shameless tearjerking. An L.A. family deals with chronic illness in a script by Jeremy Leven (“The Notebook,” “Alex & Emma”) that’s directed by Nick Cassavetes (“The Notebook,” “Alpha Dog,” “She’s So Lovely”) with over a dozen medical consultants, including pediatric oncologists, in the credits. When Sara (Cameron Diaz) and Brian (Jason Patric) learn their little daughter Kate has leukemia, they genetically engineer a sister, a supply of compatible tissues and organs for treating Kate’s disease. (A similar decision figured in last year’s “A Christmas Tale” by French director Arnaud Desplechin.) This designer donor is Anna (Abigail Breslin “Kit Kittredge: An American Girl,” “Little Miss Sunshine,” “Signs.”) After a lifetime enduring painful procedures for keeping Kate (Sofia Vassilieva, NBC-TV’s “Medium”) alive, 11-year-old Anna decides she does not want to donate a kidney. She hires a lawyer (Alec Baldwin) to file a “petition for medical emancipation.” His own medical issue-alerted by his service dog named “Judge”-will come to light in a hallway of the justice building. The judge in the case (Joan Cusack) is just back from a six-month leave after an emotional breakdown triggered by her 12-year-old daughter’s death. In court her own mom, an attorney who sacrificed her career to take care of Kate, questions Anna. Cassavetes handles the turmoil with measured performances, and downplays a trite plot turn around a courtroom outburst and leaked secret. I’d prefer more on Anna’s tragic conflict to sacrificing for her sister, and could do without all the narration and flashbacks. Kate’s terminal nobility is prescribed: “I don’t mind my disease killing me, but it’s killing my family too.” If only Cassavetes and Leven gave equal time to her physical pain, instead of their hurt by proxy. With Evan Ellingson, Thomas Dekker, Heather Wahlquist, David Thornton. 106m. Anamorphic 2.40 widescreen. (Bill Stamets)