Shall We Kiss? (2007)

Now Available

Director: Emmanuel Mouret

“Before a kiss can be given, no one knows if it will be big or small,” Emilie warns Gabriel, the stranger with whom she’s sparked after the two share an unexpected evening together while out-of-town on business. As they’re both committed to others, they contemplate the temptation of a goodbye kiss and debate whether or not such an exchange could be of no-consequence. And, in the tradition of Woody Allen—one of the writer/director/star Emmanuel Mouret’s greatest cinematic influences—Emilie offers her opinion by sharing a cautionary tale.

Soon, using Emilie’s narrative for the film’s story-within-a-story structure, we’re introduced to the recently dumped Nicolas (Mouret) and married Judith (Virginie Ledoyen). Two exceptionally close best friends, their relationship moves into uncomfortable territory after underestimating the consequences of their actions, when Judith consents to a merciful roll in the hay with her sex-starved friend, only to discover—much like When Harry Met Sally—once physical intimacy enters the equation, the friendship is over.

However, a lingering question remains-- namely, where to go from there, especially when they realize that their kiss led to much more than simply sex but possibly love. When it comes to l’amour, nobody does romance quite like the French and, like an unexpectedly irresistible kiss, Mouret’s sophisticated film is no exception, sure to strike a chord with fans of Allen and Eric Rohmer.

TV on DVD: Samantha Who?-- The Complete First Season

Warning: Do not operate heavy machinery
(other than your DVD player)
as memory loss and incessant laughter will occur.

Although Samantha Newly (Christina Applegate) laments that “old me really screwed new me over,” in ABC’s hit sitcom, Samantha Who?, when it came to the reception her show received, the former Married With Children star couldn’t have been more wrong.

For nearly half of Who’s fifteen-episode initial season, Applegate’s sunny comedy (which she also produces) became the “highest-rated freshman sitcom of the 2007-2008 TV season” additionally dethroning Charlie Sheen’s two-year title holding CBS comedy Two and a Half Men as the highest rated sitcom for that exact same period.

Not too shabby for a series that took the daring and usually melodramatic topic of retrograde amnesia as the platform for their Pygmalion-like comedy. In the pilot episode of Samantha Who?, we find the formerly “Bad Samantha” awakening after an eight-day coma from being hit by a car. However, after the balloons and flowers have lost their charm, she becomes acquainted with her villainous old life. And upon realizing that it’s time to change her ways and become “New Samantha," suddenly her character’s name Samantha Newly becomes all the more apt as Applegate’s heroine decides to turn over a new leaf and rectify past mistakes.

Samantha Who? Promo

Although she’s primarily both her own Eliza Doolittle and Professor Higgins, Samantha has a great support system all too eager to help steer her in, if not the right direction, then down whichever direction they decide to pursue. After her mother makes peace with the fact that she won’t be able to win an Extreme Home Makeover upon Samantha’s awakening and her dad gives her his business card as a means of introducing himself, Samantha tries to mend fences with the parents she hadn’t spoken with in two years, Regina and Howard Newly (played by a hilarious Jean Smart and Kevin Dunn). And while it’s Smart who steals every scene she’s in, in one particularly humorous episode and the desire to bond with her outdoorsman father, Samantha decides to view the misnamed film The Deer Hunter, later prompting Samantha to ask, “Have you heard of Vietnam? I mean, do people know about that?”

Additionally, she also shares a close paternal/mentor relationship with her aspiring screenwriter doorman Frank (Tim Russ) who always offers her the perfect piece of advice or quote, despite his wish to stay out of her life. However Sam has the most trouble dealing with the unexpected sparks that fly as she strives to establish new boundaries with her former photographer boyfriend Todd (Barry Watson) that get much more difficult when he not only reciprocates her feelings but has begun seeing an unstable, clingy woman named Chloe (Kiele Sanchez).

And over the course of the season, Samantha moves in and out of her family home and old apartment as she comes to term with living life as a virtual newborn. Luckily, like a figurative good angel on one shoulder and a bad one on the other, Samantha has two friends pulling her in opposite directions. While Bad Samantha’s best friend, the champagne guzzling Andrea (Jennifer Esposito), misses Sam’s old partying, bed-hopping, and manipulative ways, young Samantha’s childhood best friend Dena (Melissa McCarthy) relishes the opportunity to start fresh with Samantha so much that she initially lies about their relationship as you can see in the clip below.

Samantha’s Friends

And while sometimes Samantha finds this so overwhelming that she engages in mini-freak outs that get her kicked out of AA or send people running in the opposite direction, she uses her misfortune to her benefit, deciding — like the thematically similar Jennifer Garner comedy 13 Going On 30 -- that she’ll change her ways to become the woman she’s always wanted instead of trying to catch up on three decades of her life.

Although first she must realize just how “bad” Bad Samantha was which serves as a running gag of the first season. Containing numerous confrontations with those whose lives she’d destroyed from violating a restraining order on an old boyfriend who’s dog she’d kidnapped to the married men she pursued, as well as the banning of office birthday parties so that she could horde the cake in her own freezer and save company money — soon it becomes so much that she changes her outgoing answering machine to two screamed words, namely, “I’m sorry!”

And whether she’s learning far too late of her tremendous fear of elevators, discovering that she’d booked herself an appointment to get a boob job, is massively in debt thanks to the shoes and accessories department of her favorite stores, why The Go-Go’s makes her cry, or just trying to remember what liquid soap, REO Speedwagon, and frozen yogurt is, Applegate makes us laugh regardless. This is especially apparent in this scene as she consults Todd while trying to figure out just what it is she does for a living.

“What do I do?”

And although sometimes oral and visual cues prompt her into brief remembrances of the past, Samantha who is afraid to date for fear that she’ll have little to offer in the way of her side of the conversation, goes to drastic measures, such as hypnotherapy, to try and restore her old memory. However, while it does help in her ability to ride in an elevator without screaming which does a world of good in preventing her from running up twenty flights of stairs to her office in a real estate firm where she’s the vice president, her childhood is still a bit fuzzy.

“Annie.”

Featuring a fun and brightly colored booklet entitled “The Good and Bad of Love, Life and Career” written by Samantha, Andrea, and Dena (The Women of Samantha Who?), the first season of creators Donald Todd and Cecilia Ahren’s show hits DVD shelves on September 23. Roughly 322 minutes, the two-disc set is loaded with commentaries and contains bloopers and deleted scenes as well as sneak peeks from other ABC programs. Transferred to its stunning widescreen display that’s enhanced for 16x9 televisions and featuring Dolby Digitial 5.1 Surround Sound, Samantha Who? which is rated TV-PG is also available with a French language and subtitle track as well as Spanish and English subtitles.

Smartly written, upbeat and ridiculously fast paced enough that it could be likened to a thirty minute version of co-star Melissa McCarthy’s work on the screwball inspired rapid-fire dialogue heavy Gilmore Girls, it consistently amazed me how much substantial plot was crammed into each and every episode without one seeming as though it was there as a “filler.” While it’ll be fascinating to see if it can keep up the same momentum as the one-joke amnesia premise may not be able to sustain for more than a few years and keep up the quality for a full year of episodes (as opposed to the shorter run of fifteen you’ll find on the DVDs), Applegate is tremendously charming.

Moreover, she remains in the company of the chosen few female comedians like Lucille Ball, Mary Tyler Moore, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Debra Messing, Sarah Jessica Parker, Lauren Graham, and Tina Fey who play against their glamorous beauty, instead bending over backwards to make us laugh, and reminds us once again just how talented she can be (for further proof she can crack you up even more than some of the guys check out her work in Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy).

Additionally, it’s a feel-great and life-affirming sitcom that’s so refreshing to viewers who — like myself — were growing far too weary of argumentative sitcoms like Everybody Loves Raymond that don’t celebrate people but rather present a mean-spirited form of humor wherein you wish everyone involved would divorce or go their separate ways. When it comes to Samantha Who?, you quickly realize you just want this zany gang to stay together, even if its lead character may have trouble remembering just who they all are.

Love in the Afternoon (1957)

Director:
Billy Wilder

To borrow an adage my grandfather was fond of repeating, anything can be cured except for a broken heart. Despite this warning, cinema is my favorite prescription for anything that ails. Often, I’ve referred to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours as the perfect antidote to lifting one’s spirits after a horrible date since the film’s poor lead played by Griffin Dunne experiences unspeakably hellish and surprisingly hilarious misunderstandings over the course of one very bad night in New York. Yet another one of my favorite films to cure romantic ills is Billy Wilder’s Love in the Afternoon.

A decidedly cynical yet irresistibly sophisticated romantic comedy—it’s the ideal film for women still weary from the lies told by wooing men-- especially when faced with any of the following on a sliding scale of misdeeds comprised of scoundrels whose eyes follow anything in a skirt even when in the company of another woman, sins of omission regarding men who flirt while neglecting to mention they’re the opposite of single, and worst of all, the revelations of either infidelity or the clichéd but ever-present (especially in this era of Viagra) over-the-hill philandering lothario.

How’s a woman to cope with a constant barrage of calculating manipulation? My remedy is taking great delight and comfort in the lovely, understated performance by Audrey Hepburn as the deceptively naïve, young Parisian girl Ariane Chavasse, who finds herself drawn to a notorious American playboy and decides to beat him at his own game—not through tacky promiscuity but by using intellectual strategy and mental manipulation of her own, taking a cue from right out of her lover’s playbook.

As the daughter of a respected private detective played by the always charming Maurice Chevalier, the motherless, precocious student Ariane finds her imagination working overtime when she’s relegated to practicing her cello in an adjoining room whenever her father discusses his findings with a constant parade of betrayed clients whose spouses have embarked on illicit affairs while making the most of France’s penchant for l’amour. When she learns that Frank Flannagan (Gary Cooper), the international jet setting American businessman responsible for most of the marital carnage—not to mention whose dalliances keep her father in business—has become the intended target of an enraged, gun-toting, jealous husband, Ariane embarks on a secretive adventure to intervene in order to save the man’s life, only to lose her heart in the process.

While as far as romantic experience goes, Ariane is definitely a babe in the woods, she’s so familiar with Frank’s dossier that she knows his romantic scorecard by heart yet, much as she tries to prevent becoming ensnared by his smooth, well-rehearsed charms, she finds herself overwhelmed by the attention. And equally, Cooper’s Flannagan becomes utterly fascinated by the nameless waif who intervenes on his behalf, even more so when she refuses to give her name so as not to let Flannagan trace her back to her father’s home, leaving him no choice but to dub the mysterious beauty “Thin Girl.”

Although the two spend an unforgettable day together, as predicted, she’s completely devastated when he must leave Paris, but when he returns much later, Ariane has decided to keep up her mysterious charade by adopting a similarly promiscuous, philandering persona of her own, teasing the much older man with tales of her own “past lovers,” until it’s Flannagan who has ended up even more obsessed with the girl than she had been with him originally.

Intriguingly due to the moral code of the time: While it’s inferred that the two characters whose frequent romantic rendezvous in Flannagan’s Parisian hotel suite and idle dates aboard a boat in the water (in an homage to the impressionist painter Manet; Crowe 144) had been sexual in nature, due to threats from the Catholic church, IMDb reports that Wilder was forced to dub in dialogue indicating the contrary as Cooper is overheard stating, “I can’t get to first base with her” as well as an extra voice-over in the film’s concluding scene.

In an effort to craft his own cinematic version of the “sophisticated wit and style” which led to the term the “Lubitsch Touch,” invented by Wilder’s beloved Ninotchka and Shop Around the Corner writer/director Ernst Lubitsch, he embarked on a tremendously creative collaboration with long time writing partner, I.A.L. Diamond. And as the result of their nearly perfect effort, Love in the Afternoon, the overlooked gem boasts one of Hepburn’s greatest performances in a feminine role that would not only become quintessential to Wilder (she seems like an earlier version of McClaine’s character in The Apartment) but also seems to have had a major influence on writer/director and Wilder devotee Cameron Crowe.

Crowe who cited Jerry Maguire as his own Wilder homage in frequent interviews, seems to have drawn even greater inspiration for his Oscar nominated character Penny Lane (played by Kate Hudson) in Almost Famous from Hepburn’s Thin Girl. In addition, he’s often shared the story of the now late Billy Wilder’s impressed reaction to Hudson’s memorable sequence illustrating Penny’s seriocomic heartache upon learning she was bartered in a poker game scene in Famous, making this parallel seem much stronger if you view Afternoon right before Famous. Additionally, the mutual respect the two share for each other is on excellent display in the nonfiction book I cited earlier, Cameron Crowe’s Conversations With Wilder.

Sadly, although the film always makes me recall the bittersweet and heartrending finale of Thin Girl running alongside Flannagan’s train until he makes the impulsive decision to pull her aboard (one of the most underrated romantic moments in movie history), most of the critical analysis given to the film concerns the staggering age difference from a far too old Cooper and his much, much younger love interest. Ironically, it’s rumored that Cary Grant was Wilder’s first choice for the role but he’d turned the film down because of the age issue himself. And while I do feel the chemistry would’ve benefited from pairing Hepburn with someone a bit younger or who possesses equally fiery intensity (possibly like Gregory Peck whom she sizzled with in Roman Holiday or even—to name two of her other costars—William Holden or Henry Fonda), Cooper does a fine job. In fact, in her autobiography, Hepburn stated that Gary Cooper had lost none of his sex appeal with age. And admittedly, although I do cherish the film, some scenes are a bit cringe-worthy when you realize that Cooper looks—if not as old—than in the same genuine bracket as Chevalier (who portrays her father), which does hinder its believability slightly.

Still, in a way, it makes his performance as Flannagan seem all the more fragile and therefore irresistible when the shy, innocent, yet love-struck Thin Girl manages to beat the manipulative, sneaky, philandering man at his own game by knocking him off his feet, all with the power of a few well chosen words and of course, the incalculable dazzling charisma possessed by Audrey Hepburn herself. Thus in the end, it's the delicate Hepburn and not tough High Noon star Cooper who manages to score one for the heartsick ladies.

For-- as The Beach Boys sang in “I Get Around”-- unless you’re willing to pay the price, “It wouldn’t be right, to leave your best girl home now on Saturday night,” so henceforth, Thin Girl gets around… if only in her imagination and only with the best of intentions. And after all, is there a greater intention than love?

Love and Other Disasters

Director: Alek Keshishian

In order to try and battle what Breakfast at Tiffany’s heroine Holly Golightly would call “the mean reds” of writing traditional romantic comedy, writer/director Alek Keshishian borrows heavily from not only Tiffany’s but also British romantic comedies of the past for the David Fincher and Luc Besson produced Love and Other Disasters.

For his own version of Golightly, Keshishian casts the charismatically affable, brunette beauty Brittany Murphy as “Jacks” (real name Emily Jackson) in a role that demands his actress channel both Golightly as well as the woman who personified her, the legendary Audrey Hepburn. While imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, initially, Murphy’s characterization feels like an academic acting school exercise (at best) and a blithe parody (at worst) but soon enough, she wins us over. Much like the Clueless heroine Cher, played by Murphy’s costar Alicia Silverstone in director Amy Heckerling’s modern version of Jane Austen’s Emma, Murphy’s Jacks is a matchmaker gone wild.

Trying her best to keep everything running swimmingly, the perpetually rushed Jacks treats life as a never-ending party where as the “hostess” she must always ensure the guests are having the most wonderful time. And in doing so she often places the self-created dramas and romantic complications of her friends far above taking stock of things in her own chaotically fast-paced life where there’s barley enough hours in the day.

When she isn’t shagging James (Elliot Cowan), her formerly long-term, currently ex-boyfriend who just can’t seem to rebound from the fact that his love is one-sided, Jacks bonds with-- as Kathy Griffin would call-- her “main gay,” a.k.a. her endlessly supportive roommate Peter Simon (Matthew Rhys). Although aside from Peter, Jacks’ stable of friends are more irritating than winning. This is especially apparent in an extremely annoying and cringe-worthy performance by Catherine Tate as the Sylvia Plath wannabe Talullah who seems to have wandered in after being rejected from the set of either Notting Hill or Love Actually.

However, amidst juggling all of friends’ romantic subplots, Jacks is surprised to find herself enchanted by a new Argentinean colleague, Paolo (Santiago Cabrera). After confidently declaring that she has the best gaydar in the city, Jacks erroneously decides to fix her new acquaintance up with Peter. Of course, all the while the audience realizes she's mistaken Paolo’s intense looks, flirtatious compliments, and attentiveness as merely friendly when in fact Paolo has fallen in love with our flighty heroine.

If it all sounds complicated it is, and the ambitious Lebanese born, Harvard-educated filmmaker Keshishian (most famous for helming Madonna: Truth or Dare) naively tries to squeeze in far too many characters and situations into his film’s brief running time. And while at times the Tiffany’s homage feels overly forced as he unsuccessfully gives Jacks a misguided Golightly-esque catchphrase of calling cherished friends “babies,” it’s an interesting take on the original material.

In fact, it gamely acknowledges that the film version of Tiffany’s took the homosexual male character from the book and repacked him for straight audiences as a heterosexual in traditional romantic comedy fashion. Thereby, Keshishian uses his own lighthearted romp as an unlikely commentary on the decision by having loads of fun with sexual orientation misunderstandings in our contemporary era.

A beautiful and harmless trifle, Love’s carefree blend of sass and soap suds calls to mind the guilty pleasure of watching the superior CW soap Gossip Girl, but much like Gossip, it’s one of those experiences you may plead the fifth on if asked if you're a fan when in snobbish society.

Unfortunately, Keshishian’s attempt is muddled by superfluity as one feels a strong urge to reach for the “fast-forward” button whenever the obnoxious Talullah along with a few other annoying characters appear onscreen. However the chaos does serve an important purpose in augmenting Jacks and inviting viewers to identify with her a bit more than we could with Hepburn’s Golightly.

For instead of Tiffany’s diamonds, in the twenty-first century, multi-tasking is a girl’s best friend and it serves Jacks well in her self-described position as “a superficial assistant at a major fashion magazine,” namely the London branch of Vogue. Although, unlike Anne Hathaway’s discovery that in the fashion world, The Devil Wears Prada, Jacks puts her work—much like her own needs—on the back burner. And instead navigating the Golightly terrain of “rats and super-rats,” she predictably discovers that ultimately she must stop hiding behind luxury products, eccentric “artist” friends, and haute couture to let down her own guard long enough to fall in love.

Wrapping up the work utilizing the rarely beneficial screenwriting favorite "film-within-a-film" approach, much like Jacks, Keshishian called on the support of friends by serving up Gwyneth Paltrow and Orlando Bloom in an unnecessary concluding cameo that jars the whimsical tone and calls far too much attention to itself. Still, with an irresistible turn by Murphy, uniformly excellent work by Rhys, and a nice change of pace for gorgeous Heroes star Santiago Cabrera, one finds that in the end this Love is far from a total disaster.

Fool's Gold

Director:
Andy Tennant

In trying to explain the dubious popularity of Jerry Springer in the late 1990’s, a professor memorably decided that to viewers, watching the show was the ultimate form of catharsis in however bad they had it, at least they weren’t in the shoes of guests who had so many partners they didn’t know who fathered their child, had gambled away tens of thousands of dollars in welfare money, realized they were just one of several families their spouse had set up across the country, or were married to someone who used to be of an entirely different gender. I’m not sure if Professor Murphy was right but I liked her theory and there’s something to be said about our instinctive inclination to stare deeply at whatever shocks us which explains why people get into car accidents while distracted by watching a different car accident and those who roll their eyes disapprovingly at paparazzi magazines and then begin flipping through the pages anyway while in line at the grocery store, or after taking a bite of questionably funky potato salad, turn to a friend and say, “Dude this is the worst-- try this.” The sad thing is, most of us do, without even thinking about the internal gag reflex or the warning we just encountered, either for the aforementioned catharsis of “at least I didn’t make that salad” or the belief that something really can’t be as bad as everyone says it is and the same is often true of movies.

While I’m definitely taking everyone’s word for it that dental torture is preferable than sitting through The Love Guru and you couldn’t pay me any amount of money to see the crass, racially offensive Eddie Murphy comedies that have been released in the past few years, in the same turn-- like Pauline Kael who raved about the joys of trash-- I’m actually one of those people who in her heart truly tries to give others the benefit of the doubt. This is especially true if I like some of the involved personalities’ other work which is why-- having dug J. Lo in Out of Sight-- I actually added Gigli to my Netflix queue despite the Razzies and while it was indeed awful, perhaps the most embarrassing part of the entire experience was that it was one of the only times a Netflix film was ever lost in the mail so I had to report to the center that sadly, I needed them to send me another Gigli. I imagine I’m on a wall of shame somewhere and needless to say, there were no investigations over whether or not I was dishonest and secretly hording Gigli DVDs even to prevent subjecting others to the horrors of bad comedy.

And then this year, when it came to Fool’s Gold, the critics darn near wore out their keyboards trashing the cinematic reunion of Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey after their box office hit How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, which despite its predictability and the fact that I’ve possibly lost all cinematic credibility, genuinely made me laugh enough to be curious about Gold.

This being said, I’ve often felt that men and women view films differently and none more so than romantic works. Whether straight or gay-- we’re turned on differently, turned off differently and as all daters know, definitely have our own timeline for everything and such is the case for romantic comedies or the oft-cited “chick flicks.” By the way: a note to you men out there-- as a label, “chick flick” is about as appealing as the various nicknames for our “time of the month” and if it's a phrase you insert into conversation frequently, it will definitely set you back a few places in (ahem) succeeding in your goal-oriented dating timeline.

When it comes to the rom-com genre and chick flicks in general, I listen to the largely male dominated industry out of intellectual respect, especially those with whom I share much in common or highly regard, but end up deciding to make up my own mind which is why, overlooking its many flaws I’m one of the only critics who enjoyed Baby Mama; who felt that while it was weak Made of Honor was better than the male preferred What Happens in Vegas; and although I probably would only recommend it as acceptable airline entertainment honestly didn’t think 27 Dresses was quite the end of civilization as we know it that my male contemporaries did. Although, this being said, while it’s definitely watchable if channel flipping, I find Pretty Woman incredibly unromantic so much that I roll my eyes at men who assume we all obsess about it and felt that the Sex and the City movie paled in comparison to the series-- so in the end, to each their own.

However, when it comes to the case of Fool’s Gold, it was so hammered that I guiltily sneaked into the video store like an embarrassed shopper, thinking they should perhaps rent the disc in a brown paper wrapper or behind the pharmacy counter and indeed, at my local store, there was a sign indicating that you had to ask for the film at the front desk, which made the experience feel just about as classy as Netflix’s missing Gigli.

Although I could take or leave Matthew McConaughey and frankly prefer his near look-alike Josh Lucas (Sweet Home Alabama, Glory Road), I’ve been a fan of Hudson’s since she made us laugh and cry all in the same sentence realizing she’d been lost in a poker game in Cameron Crowe’s masterpiece Almost Famous and after a week of studying the Renaissance in grad school and watching too many depressing epics, felt like a brainless comedy was exactly what I needed. However, we get what we wish for and I couldn’t have found anything more brainless than Fool’s Gold—a film so bad that by this point it’s almost a cliché to ridicule it which is why I took a narrative approach to this review.

Except in the chosen few titles like The Princess Bride or Romancing the Stone, the hybrid of romantic comedy adventure seldom works but I held out hope after a truly memorable opening finds treasure hunter Finn (McConaughey) and his partner’s boat exploding in a fiery burst while they're underwater hunting for any clues in a few hundred year old mystery that will lead them to the whereabouts of the legendary Queen’s Dowry which was lost in a hurricane following the marriage of King Phillip of Spain. The exploding boat would be enough of a bad omen to give even those most resistant of superstition pause but Finn manages to outrun the men (including Cosby Show’s Malcolm Jamal Warner) who want to kill him and his debt of sixty two thousand dollars to try and convince his newly divorced wife Tess (Hudson) to go off on another adventure to search for the gold, conveniently of course setting them back on the path to reconciliation along the way.

Although they make a terrific bantering team, despite having a truly weak script that offers them zero of the opportunities which made their earlier movie together much more memorable, Hudson and McConaughey just feel as unconvincing, bland, and predictable as the overwhelming sun which finds the male star—at this point most likely contractually obligated—to remove his shirt with little prompting throughout the course of the entire movie. (Let's just say, I had to dig long and hard to find a publicity photo of the two above wherein McC was actually wearing clothes since to misquote Mamet, by now, "we can draw his chest from memory" whether we want to or not.)

Overcrowding the story with far too many details and less than stellar characters including an inexplicably wasted Donald Sutherland as Tess’s wealthy employer and his pointless, young bimbo daughter Gemma (Alexis Dziena) both of whom seem to be used-- unfortunately like the African-American cast members-- to try and reach every demographic without respecting any reasonable audience member’s intelligence, Gold becomes so disastrous, one begins to wish for the discussed hurricane to come and bury the script, freeing up the actors so that they can move onto other projects that are hopefully better than this one.

And although I’m as guilty as the stars for taking any part in the film’s success by renting it, perhaps its reason for being was exactly that—that when handed the script, Hudson and company couldn’t believe that anything could truly be that bad. Unless instead of the script, they were first delivered their paychecks; for as we all know, gold can make a fool of anybody... just ask Jerry Springer.

Mama's Boy

Director:
Tim Hamilton

They say that the best way to uncover just what a man truly thinks of women is to see how he treats his mother. In fact, right up there with “sense of humor,” one of the most desirable qualities female friends rattle off when listing the ideal man seems to be “gets along well with his mother.” Of course, one can’t help who their parents are just as much as one can’t help who their children are and there are definite understandable exceptions to this rule. And granted, chivalry may be on its last legs but often times the little things men do to show their affinity or compassion for women from simply holding a door, offering a coat, walking us to our car in bad neighborhoods, or not trying to grope us in the first instant we’re alone are often internally, instinctually ingrained at a young age by their relationship to the first woman in their life-- namely "mom." However, this being said, there’s a definite difference between loving one’s mother and being a mama’s boy and I know plenty of relationships that went south precisely because of this difference in what attracted a woman in the first place was just a sneak preview of the mother issues her mate had once they’d gotten together. But truth be told, when it comes to mama’s boys, Napoleon Dynamite star Jon Heder’s character Jeffrey Mannus takes the cake in the aptly named film Mama’s Boy.

Like Matthew McConaughey in Failure to Launch, Jeffrey is one of those twenty-nine year old late bloomers who still lives at home but while McConaughey’s alter ego in Launch used it to an advantage as the perfect excuse to end a relationship without doing any of the heavy lifting or awkward “we need to talk” conversations most of us try desperately to avoid, Jeffrey prefers that the only woman in his life is his mother Jan (Diane Keaton) and that likewise, he should be her only man. Predictably things change when Jan approaches the cheesy if innocuous "success coach" Mert Rosenbloom (a hilarious Jeff Daniels), like a smitten groupie after a lecture and she accepts a date to see him perform with his jazz band, aptly named “The Mertones." While great for the desperately lonely Jan, this agreement sounds an insecurity alarm in Jeffrey who-- similar to his mother-- hasn’t dated in three years and cruelly reminds Jan that as a middle aged widow she’s “not some trollop from a Jackie Collins novel.”

Thankfully she ignores her son’s advice, not to mention his insistence to stalk his mother’s every move during her courtship with Mert, between his hobbies of collecting comic books, role-playing intricate outdoor battles with other Dungeons and Dragons types, obsessively watching and listening to all things 1980s dressed like a New Wave Smiths devotee, and usurping control of classic video games at the local arcade. Then flirtation finds Jeffrey and he's equally thrown for a loop after meeting cute with Nora Flannigan (Lost in Translation’s Anna Faris), a rebellious coffee shop employee whose real hobby is as “plucky songstress” writing protest anthems about corporate America including her own favorite track, “Bed, Bath and Bulls**t.”

While Nora’s interest in the mean-spirited loser who demands that his mother continue to make his daily lunch and walk him to the bus (since he refuses to drive), seems far-fetched at best, Faris is so genuinely likable that she’s the one singular breath of fresh air in this slightly stale straight-to-DVD, forgettable confection that wastes its gift of Diane Keaton, makes Heder a far creepier version of the geek he played in School for Scoundrels, and gives both saving grace Faris and the amazingly diverse and resourceful Daniels too few opportunities to shine.

But admittedly it's much better than one would assume, even with an overly padded ending that seems tacked on simply to try and lighten up the film’s tone after a painfully unfunny turn of events sours us on the main characters, it’s sure to garner more support on DVD due to the commercial appeal of the leads. Despite this and I note this with affection as someone who was forced to move back in with mom for grad school budgetary reasons-- mama’s boys be warned as director Tim Hamilton’s Mama’s Boy may provide one more stumbling block for men in their late twenties who still live at home in trying to meet a romantic mate. For a more flattering—if admittedly just as predictable—view of homebound males as "McConaughey-like shirtless hotties," it’s perhaps best to rent Failure to Launch if you’re choosing a film to share on a date... just before revealing that you still sleep in your childhood bedroom.

Happy Accidents

Director: Brad Anderson

For years I rejected the notion that I had a romantic type. In fact, it’s a theory I’ve always resisted since no two individuals are alike but after others have pointed out the recurring pattern to be found in men whom I find attractive (tall, typically dark haired, kind, creative, smart, funny, slightly older), there’s no use denying it any longer.

I guess as they say, not only am I one of many who have a type but-- after more than a decade on the dating scene-- I have just as many turn-offs as I do things that cause my head to turn. Whether it’s staying away from gun show enthusiasts, conservative Republicans, smokers, men who loathe foreign film, the devoutly religious, guys without a library card or voter registration, or those who have never been to a museum on an occasion other than a field trip, we all have our deal-breakers with some faux pas (of course!) being more serious than others.

Of course, dating is far more difficult when one is a recovering codependent and such is the case for Ruby Weaver (Marisa Tomei) in writer/director Brad Anderson’s high energy, romantic, fantastical mystery Happy Accidents. Not only has Ruby had her fill of men who were less than her ideal such as the bad actor, the artist who felt she was leaving his work more than him, the fetishist, and addicts and her friend had a scare dating a secretive Jew for Jesus, but as a notorious “fixer,” Ruby’s made it a habit of falling for the wrong men whom she feels she can mold into the best versions of themselves whether they’re interested in changing or not.

While I can assure you that as tempting as it is to try and change men-- even slightly from discouraging an overreliance on their typical wardrobe staples of interchangeable baseball hats-- the only way someone is going to change is on their own, so one needs to make peace with those damn hats and be thankful that (in comparison to the freaks Ruby has met) that’s the least of our worries.

With a therapist to answer to and still so determined to be everyone’s loyal girl Friday so much that she gets fired for being overly helpful and flirtatious as a directory assistance operator, Ruby tries to steer clear of relationships but as we all know, that’s precisely when they spring up like a flower or sometimes a weed in a garden we weren’t looking for.

When Ruby first meets the friendly, intelligent, earnest yet slightly old-fashioned and awkward Sam Deed (Vincent D’Onofrio) who rambles on addictively with theories of time, there seems to be an instant pull but she resigns herself to the fact that Sam is probably one of those men best fantasizing about rather than dating. Of course, this is before he shows up in her life again and after a literal whirlwind courtship complete with fast motion cinematography and quick cuts, we catch up with the blissfully happy couple one week into their relationship which finds them impulsively cohabitating.

However, once they’re sharing the same space, they learn they don’t have room for excess baggage but instead of the usual “getting to know you” discoveries, Ruby is thunderstruck by a revelation offered from the odd, easily confused Sam that he is from the year 2470. With a ridiculous yarn involving time-travel, false arrest, and freedom fighting, in which Sam explains his flight from the “Atlantic coast of Iowa” to come to the year 1999 and meet up with his contact Chrystie Delancey, Ruby grows far more concerned with his mental health, until his story begins to not only evolve as their relationship continues but starts to involve her own future story as well.

Ingenious, clever and unabashedly romantic with superb chemistry between the two leads and great supporting turns by Nadia Dajani and Sean Gullette (Pi), Happy Accidents which was released the same year as the forgettable by-the-numbers time travel love story Kate and Leopold was unfortunately overlooked by mainstream audiences before it was relegated to occasional showings on IFC and even fewer copies placed in video stores across the country.

Fascinating and filled with great screwball dialogue that’s at once so highly intelligent and awe-inspiringly creative it wouldn’t have been out of place in a classic Preston Sturges film, making Tomei’s earthy, caring Ruby seem like a modern take on a role that would’ve been played back in the 1930s and 40s by Claudette Colbert.

Additionally, it’s the type of film that plays even better on repeat viewings when the entire complicated plot can best be appreciated with all of its layers and thankfully without the fierce apprehension one experiences initially. Perhaps and most impressively, the talented work by Brad Anderson (Next Stop Wonderland, The Machinist) can just as easily be called a science fiction or fantasy work as it can a romantic comedy yet it doesn’t fall exclusively into one set genre, dazzling us by breaking both of the molds and constantly switching styles throughout so that it’s as irresistible as a breathtaking date with a man we’ve just realized, much like Ruby, is exactly our type.

In fact, Happy Accidents is not only highly recommended but it’s one of my favorite romantic indie films of the last decade and shouldn’t fail to strike a chord with those who enjoyed Amelie.

Buy It

Sex and the City

Director:
Michael Patrick King

The poster says it all—a glamour shot of a contemplative, wised-up, possibly battle scarred Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) against a night background. She’s come a long way from the tutu, wandering through the sunlit streets in a toss between a ballerina’s grace and a tigress on the prowl. That was until cynical reality hit her in the form of a splashed puddle from a bus in the beginning of the television show’s timeless credit sequence that set up the sophisticated, randy, melancholy, witty and beloved award winning HBO series for its astronomically successful six season run. Yet in transferring the tale of single former love and sex columnist Carrie Bradshaw and her three best friends to the big screen, it’s evident fairly early on that the focus has changed considerably.

While it was always fixated on Carrie, there was never a shortage of compelling plots concerning the rest of the Manhattan quartet to elevate the series into a multilayered tapestry of humor, intellectuality and poignant truths. However, that’s quickly forgotten on the big screen as Carrie becomes not only the predictable leading lady but her cohorts are given so little to work with that they become as uninspired and clichéd as countless best friends in the romantic comedy genre, just there to offer a shoulder to cry on, try and deliver a well-timed joke, but never forget their place to stand in the background like a bridesmaid, never upstaging the bride on her big day.

Thus it’s only fitting that the film’s bride-like character becomes a bride as we check in with Carrie, five years after she went to Paris and got accidentally slapped by Petrovsky before the dashing, comical Big (Chris Noth) showed up, sold the key line, “I’m clocking this foreigner,” until Carrie tripped him in the hallway and they ended up falling on the floor and for one another (AGAIN) in a terrific series finale that’s quickly become one of the shows’ most memorable episodes. Now happily committed to Big whom we learn is really named John James Preston (after King’s favorite director Preston Sturges, creator of unforgettable comedies and also intriguingly the first kiss-proof lipstick which is no doubt a SATC staple), Carrie and the wealthy playboy decide unceremoniously in a nearly business mindset to wed before moving into their own corner of “real estate heaven,” namely, a breathtaking penthouse where the view is only outdone by the jaw-dropping, flatteringly lit, and highly organized racquetball court sized walk-in closet.

Obviously, Manolo Blahnik loving Carrie seems less intrigued by the prospect of a ring than the closet and before long, her wealthy, prim dark haired Grace Kelly like princess friend Charlotte (Kristin Davis) is lending Carrie her best gay friend Anthony (Mario Cantone) to plan the big day. While Charlotte is just as we left her, living a life of uneventful domestic bliss married to the good-natured Harry Goldenblatt (Evan Handler) complete with adorable puppies and a cute adopted Chinese daughter who, along with Harry and the puppies seem merely decorative, the tough-as-nails, heart attack waiting to happen, successful law film partner Miranda Hobbes (Cynthia Nixon) is stretching herself too thin in her married life to her own puppy dog husband Steve Brady (David Eigenberg) and son. When a predictable wrench is thrown into her marriage after the unhappily ignored Steve acts out on his dissatisfaction, Miranda is even less thrilled than we’d expect to be involved with Carrie’s nuptials but it’s Carrie’s maid of honor, the show’s saucy vixen cougar Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall) who coupled with countless frogs until she met her far younger, wart free, golden boy prince Smith (the dishy Jason Lewis), who we’re most stunned to see. Now living a largely hapless existence as a miserable stay-at-home manager to her actor lover in Los Angeles, Samantha is tirelessly devoted to her man yet finds her old urges haven’t disappeared with age when she begins obsessing about her lothario manwhore neighbor.

Rushing off to New York every chance she gets, Samantha and the girls pick up where they left off, yet instead of the fast-paced screwball laughs to which we’d grown accustomed, the sour tone of the Sex and the City movie is shockingly melancholic and while they’ve necessarily replaced the sex and single scene obsession of the show given their relationship status and maturity, by filling an exhaustive 145 minutes with endless fashion shows and product placements and using an uninspired Cinderella theme in lieu of the rampant feminism, it’s a more materialistic and less soulful version of Sex than one could possibly imagine. And even when writer/director Michael Patrick King tries to pen the required daring one-liner or raunchy hook-up, the execution feels sexless, clinical, cool and overwhelmingly tired, making me think that if the script itself had been a man, none of the foursome would have let him get past the first date.

With Carrie’s trio relegated to backup singers as Charlotte is prone to shrieking hysteria in virtually every scene, Miranda has grown even less cheerful, and Samantha is in desperate need of a hug, it pales in comparison to the six inventive seasons of the series. Although it was always a chicken soup show, making one feel better after a horrible date, breakup, or day at the office, and as a woman, I’m infinitely grateful for not only its existence but also that Hollywood actually released a film starring four women over the age of forty, in addition to Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha, SATC’s dedicated fans deserve something much richer, vital and rewarding than what in the end feels about as deep as one of the latest new age self-help books such as The Secret, that hilariously Samantha Jones throws into the sand. Too bad it couldn’t have been the script! Needless to say, skip this and go back to your bookshelves to dust off the old DVD box sets.

Sense & Sensibility (2008)

Director: John Alexander

When it comes to the men of Austen, Pride and Prejudice’s Mr. Darcy has always been in a class by himself. Occasionally he's proven far more memorable than some of the scribe’s heroines, yet when critics and devotees turn their attention to Sense and Sensibility, there’s a nearly universal dissatisfaction with the novel’s dull yet loyal Colonel Brandon who nonetheless manages to secure the affections of the young, spirited Marianne Dashwood. Typically-- due to both their similarities in temperament and their estimable age of mid to late thirties-- Brandon is lumped together with Emma’s Mr. Knightley who often scolds the precocious matchmaker with schoolmarm styled dialogue such as “Badly done, Emma. It was badly done, indeed.” Yet despite the fact that Knightley is consistently deemed preferable to Brandon, to me Emma’s beau seems about as sexy as a collections agent (except when portrayed by Jeremy Northam in the ’96 adaptation) and while-- granted-- neither man is in Darcy’s league, Brandon always seemed like my kind of guy. Trying to validate this belief became a much harder case to make in Ang Lee’s stunning ’95 cinematic version penned by Emma Thompson when the ages of nearly every character (save for Kate Winslet’s Marianne Dashwood), were increased and Brandon was portrayed by Alan Rickman a.k.a. the villainous star of Die Hard who thereafter had a recurring role in my childhood nightmares. However, even though he was brought to life by the man who would become Harry Potter’s Snape, there was always something about his chivalry, his obvious affection for Marianne and the fact that, in stark contrast to his usually dour exterior, he seemed to grow more joyful when in close proximity to her positive, passionate demeanor that genuinely touched my heart.

This is augmented considerably in director John Alexander’s gorgeous Masterpiece Theatre miniseries Sense and Sensibility, which recently made both its television and DVD premiere thanks to the good folks of PBS and the BBC. Startlingly sensual from the start as we’re introduced to the story via a love scene-- for a moment, I wondered if screenwriter Andrew Davies (who penned the best Austen adaptation with the BBC Pride and Prejudice miniseries starring Colin Firth) had picked up the right book. Although quickly we’re pushed headfirst into the familiar tale of the serious, practical and protective Elinor Dashwood (The Bank Job’s Hattie Morahan) and the fiery roughly seventeen year old Marianne (Charity Wakefield)-- two close yet decidedly different sisters who along with their mother (Tumbleweeds and Songcatcher star Janet McTeer) and much younger sister Margaret (Lucy Boynton) are left nearly penniless after their father dies and his estate and fortune are left in the hands of their greedy half-brother and his manipulative Lady Macbeth styled wife, aptly named Fanny.

While Fanny takes an instant dislike to the women, her charming brother Edward Ferrars (Dan Stevens) arrives for an overdue visit and proceeds to form an attachment to Elinor that troubles both Fanny and the Dashwoods when the overly polite Edward and soft-spoken Elinor fail to make any concrete plans regarding marriage. Not so subtly kicked out by Fanny, the Dashwoods retreat to the country when they’re offered assistance and a humble cottage from Sir John, a relative of their mother’s whom she’s never met and find themselves instantly welcomed by not only Sir John and his wife but John’s dedicated thirty-five year old friend Colonel Brandon (The Other Boleyn Girl’s David Morrissey).

Admirably and perhaps indicative of the fact that screenwriter Davies is male, we’re given a greater glimpse into the male characters and dynamics in the film as Brandon is positioned more as a kind, unlikely soul mate than his usual label as an old, tired boor. In sharing with Marianne a genuine love of music and books and eagerly surprising her with sheet music, Davies sets the two of them up nicely until the oblivious Marianne who’s mistaken his generosity for friendship turns her attentions to the Austen’s quintessentially sexy bad boy Willoughby (Dominic Cooper from The History Boys and Mamma Mia!). While those familiar with the rascally Willoughby know exactly where this is headed, it’s great fun to watch another reinvention of the classic that invites comparisons to Ang Lee’s sumptuous classic and at the same time also adds more dimension to the tale in its inclusion of more scenes taken directly from the novel that strengthen characters' motivations.

Clocking in at three hours, surprisingly Alexander’s amiable (as Austen would say) adaptation never ceases to impress. While the talented but under-utilized and erroneously cast Hattie Morahan makes a weaker Elinor than Emma Thompson-- and there’s no replacing the Oscar nominated Kate Winslet-- the film’s real revelation comes in the astute portrayal of Charity Wakefield as a more earnest and relatable Marianne who nearly ignites on screen with fevered passion and becomes even stronger when sharing scenes with Cooper (predictably) but even more so when partnered with Morrissey. Granted as someone in the character’s age bracket it pains me to say that the obvious difference in the ages may not benefit the argument that Brandon is the right man for Marianne in the staunchest critics. However, given the benefit of the adaptation’s length and making his character feel more alive and less one dimensional, perhaps even his fiercest detractors will have to admit that when all is said and done, there’s just something about Brandon after all.

In other words, "Nicely done, Davies. It was nicely done indeed."

Numb

Director:
Harris Goldberg

Have you ever had one of those days where you remember getting in your car and driving home from work but have absolutely no memory of what happened on the drive? You know you’ve obeyed the traffic lights and gone the same route you always do yet you’re so used to going through the motions that it’s impossible to distinguish one trip from the next… that is until something major changes. We take comfort in knowing that our detachment is only temporary but for Hudson (Matthew Perry), living in a “horrific perpetual dreamstate” becomes permanent after the anxiety ridden, high-strung screenwriter triggers his preexisting tendency for disassociation in a bong binge after smoking too much dope too fast while trying to pause his penchant for panic.

Soon diagnosed with “depersonalization” disorder or feeling entirely outside his body as he goes about his day, Hudson fights his condition in the quest for the perfect psychiatrist, experimenting with both talk and drug therapies while attempting his own remedies from an unsuccessful venture to reconnect with reality by visiting his parents to spending far too much time in front of his television zoning out to The Golf Channel. Nearly resigned to a life spent indoors watching the longest films ever made on DVD, Hudson is faced with an optimistic jolt when he becomes attracted to the beguiling, lovely, carefree, and refreshingly weird studio development girl Sara (Lynn Collins) after meeting her in a pitch meeting with his long suffering writing partner Tom (Kevin Pollak).

Surprisingly accepting of his predilection for evenings in front of the television, one night when faced with viewing the entire Star Wars trilogy complete with the filmmaker’s commentary, Sara urges Hudson out of the house and serious sparks begin to fly during some completely unexpected adventures. Now given a true reason to cure his depersonalization due to the fear that revealing his condition will alienate his new love, Hudson fights even harder to try and find the right course of treatment but when playing “musical drugs” begins failing, his tendency towards self-sabotage kicks in as writer/director Harris Goldberg’s impressive, autobiographical, and wholly original romantic comedy continues.

Featuring a pitch perfect performance by Matthew Perry in a role that seems completely tailor-made for the star given his incredible talent for dialogue and self-deprecation, Goldberg admirably fills in the rest of the script with equally involving characters, even when they begin bordering on caricature such as in a fine if slightly artificial subplot featuring Mary Steenburgen as an unstable cognitive behavior specialist who breaks the boundaries of a traditional doctor/patient relationship when she gives into temptation with Hudson.

Far better than one would assume given Goldberg’s other credits as a screenwriter contributing to the awful Dana Carvey vehicle The Master of Disguise and the downright despicable Deuce Bigalow series, we realize that the talented filmmaker has much more to offer than lowbrow credits. Given the maturity and well-earned laughs from this completely human script, it's safe to say that we can look forward to other movies from Goldberg that-- if he manages to stay as close to his heart as he did with this deeply personal tale-- are sure to garner him more fans in the world of independent film. Co-produced by its star Matthew Perry, Numb, which earned the Audience Award from the Gen Art Film Festival, has been recently released on DVD.

Movie Review: Made of Honor (2008)

Director: Paul Weiland

Now Available on DVD & Blu-ray

Filmgoers did a double take in the 1990s when, in trading in a ten gallon hat and cowboy boots for a Mets cap and sneakers, Billy Crystal became a short comedian in the saddle in City Slickers. As unlikely as that image seemed at the time, it made far more sense to see Crystal in cowboy mode in director Paul Weiland’s sequel City Slickers 2: The Legend of Curly’s Gold and much less sense when Grey’s Anatomy doc McDreamy (Patrick Dempsey) decides to stop a wedding by commandeering a horse in Weiland’s latest release Made of Honor. While it’s par for the romantic comedy course to end genre offerings with either the hero or heroine physically chasing down their love via taxis, airplanes, bicycles, etc. and the director at least gets credit for trying to add whimsy to the mix, for Honor's finale, coming off the heels of several clichés in a row, the only way the sequence would have seemed original is if suddenly Crystal had popped up on the screen looking for another western adventure.

Despite this, I was pleasantly surprised by the first hour of the film, which, similar to the other recent lackluster romantic comedy, What Happens in Vegas, reels us in with enough high energy and laughs to keep us interested until they realize we’ve taken the bait, and then instead of continuing to fish, the filmmakers slowly drop us further into the lake. This being said and intriguingly for someone who has never seen an entire episode of Grey’s Anatomy, I was more taken in by Made than Vegas, perhaps due to the sheer charm of the two affable leads played by the aforementioned Dempsey as well as the terrific Michelle Monaghan who’d first impressed me a few years back in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Similar to her Kiss costar Robert Downey Jr., the visible roughly decade age difference between Monaghan and Dempsey seems overly conspicuous when we realize that (again like Kiss) they’re playing former classmates, but because they seem to genuinely spark with one another, it’s easy to forgive.

Opening in 1998 at Cornell University, the philandering ladies man senior student Tom (Dempsey) meets cute with worldly, mature freshman Hannah (Monaghan) by mistaking her bed for that of her skanky roommate. Impervious to his unoriginal advances, Tom’s flirtation turns to fascination when the refreshingly honest Hannah calls him on his game and we cut to the duo ten years later as they’ve become best friends in a slightly codependent relationship-- more intimate than most marriages, yet completely platonic as a heterosexual version of Will and Grace.

Now in contemporary New York and having become successfully wealthy after inventing a “coffee collar,” man-whore Tom still chases anything in a skirt despite keeping commitment at bay while ridiculously adhering to lecherous self-imposed rules. And luckily for Tom, his favorite girl Friday, the art restorer Hannah seems all too happy to be his backup date when it matters most such as attending the sixth wedding of his father (a hilarious Sydney Pollack).

Although unlike Will and Grace yet predictably as research indicates that a majority of friendships contain some level of attraction, we suspect that Monaghan may want more out of her relationship. However a possibly awkward conversation is cut short when she journeys to Scotland for a six week work trip. Unsurprisingly, absence makes Tom’s heart grow fonder when he realizes that the bimbos he beds just don't interest him as much as Hannah but he’s in for a rude awakening when she returns engaged following a whirlwind “Bronte” inspired courtship with the unspeakably dull yet attractive Colin (Kevin McKidd). When Tom is asked to serve as Hannah’s "Moh" (Maid of Honor), his friends encourage him to sabotage the event from inside but when the annoyingly flawless Colin can’t be knocked from Hannah’s pedestal, Tom decides instead to leave character attacks out of the mix and try to prove to his best friend that he’s the one who is Made of Honor.

While less enjoyable than the unchallenging yet adorable Wedding Planner yet far better than Julia Roberts’s overwhelmingly mean-spirited My Best Friend’s Wedding, Honor benefits from its gender reversal twist. Unfortunately, as soon as the film substitutes its New York setting for fairy tale Scotland as the wedding draws nearer, the brains of the screenwriters must have fallen asleep as the film continues in auto-pilot, predictably hitting turbulence and cheap laughs for the rest of what felt like an overwhelmingly bloated running time (yet in reality was just 101 minutes).

Still, it's not as horrid as most critics would have you believe and the two actors try to get as much mileage out of the material and their underwritten, bland characters as they can and it’s half successful, until-- and echoing the predictable conclusion-- all the stops (and horses) are pulled to try and ruin things from turning “happily ever after.”

What Happens in Vegas

Director:
Tom Vaughan

Growing up in the era of Sam and Diane on Cheers and Ross and Rachel on Friends, I learned the hard way that in the world of comedy, once sexual tension disappears and the lead characters finally get together, the humor goes right out the window and the stories become increasingly dull. And if they survive the obligatory breakup or two to help nail ratings during sweeps and finally make it to the altar, it’s a surefire recipe for disaster as happily ever after translates to creatively boring ever after.

This being said, after penning the horrid Wedding Date (although we won’t hold that against her), screenwriter Dana Fox took a tremendous risk in her follow-up effort by jumping over the “boredom” hurdle early on by having the characters marry shortly into her new film What Happens in Vegas. After the spontaneous vows, Fox ramps up the loathing until it melts into fiery sexual chemistry, pushing and pulling the characters like magnets until they finally, as the genre and audience mandates, get together in the end. Although not entirely successful and woefully uneven, the resulting film gets off to a highly energetic and fast paced start.

In his Hollywood feature film debut, Starter for Ten director Tom Vaughn introduces us to the painfully perfect Joy McNally (Cameron Diaz) as she realizes that it’s this penchant for planned perfection that has driven an immeasurable wedge between herself and her dull, Ivy league poster fiancé Mason (Jason Sudikis) when he dumps her just outside his surprise birthday party. Instead of cake, Mason dishes up excruciatingly private details about their love life before Joy and her best friend Tipper (a delightful Lake Bell) decide to cut loose in Vegas, taking advantage of Mason’s now moot birthday present. Also hightailing it to sin city, we find recently fired Jack Fuller (Ashton Kutcher) who loses both his carpentry gig and his insistence for a one hundredth second chance in a basketball game with his father and boss (Treat Williams). With his wingman-- and no, I am not making this name up—Hater (Rob Corddry), Jack hopes to settle in for an evening of wild abandon before due to a double booked room, they literally run into Tipper and Joy. Several drinks, dares and hyper cuts later, the unlikely foursome discover that sometime during the night, Jack and Joy said “I Do” but before they can proceed with a divorce, Joy’s quarter is played in a slot machine by jackpot winning Jack.

Back in New York and faced with Dennis Miller’s Judge Whopper (again, the name isn’t a joke), the two are sentenced with “six months hard marriage” instead of a divorce to try and secure their share of the three million dollars and must cohabitate in Jack’s unsightly, bacteria infested, cramped bachelor pad in between sessions with court ordered marriage counselor Queen Latifah. It’s around this time that the tone shifts from screwball to hostile and the jokes become over reliant on crass toilet humor which it turns out is exactly what the screenwriter would have hoped for as a good bulk of the comedic fodder exists in, about or around the bathroom. After Fox, Vaughan and his tireless leads flush those away, What Happens in Vegas takes a violent turn towards The War of the Roses, except without that film’s success, until soon the two predictably realize that maybe between food fights and pratfalls, they actually-- you know-- kind of dig each other.

Messy and ultimately sitcom worthy, What Happens in Vegas isn’t quite the overwhelming bomb most critics had predicted when the posters and trailers began creeping into theatres at the start of 2008. However, in the careers of Kutcher and Diaz, both of whom are in desperate need of a (box office) hit and not Vegas’s “loaf of bread” hit, after minor summer movie interest, it’s destined to disappear like bathwater down the drain.

Priceless

Now Available to Own

A habitual check-splitter, I get embarrassed if an insistent but well-meaning man spends too much on me on dinner let alone trying to procure gifts of diamonds, hotel suites and Chanel from my date. Then again, I’m a regular woman living in the real world and not the gorgeous Audrey Hepburn like Audrey Tautou whose gold digging beauty Irene lives in the world of frothy, sun-drenched France in director Pierre Salvadori’s latest infectious hit Priceless.

With his adorable romantic comedy Apres Vous (After You), Salvadori and his co-writer Benoit Graffin gave legendary comedic director Francis Veber (The Closet, The Dinner Game) a run for his money. For Priceless, they even recruited the charming star Gad Elmaleh of Veber’s most recent film The Valet.

As Jean, Elmaleh plays a role similar to the one in The Valet, as the kind, diligent but largely unappreciated employee at a high class hotel with an inability to say “no,” who routinely fills in for others as the seaside resort’s jack of all trades, walking dogs for the ridiculous, wealthy and ridiculously wealthy and serving as the bartender.

While Jean’s life is all about hard work, Irene (Tautou) covets all things luxurious and expensive as the sexy siren hoping to marry her latest sugar daddy but in a predictable and Veber like twist of fate, ends up mistaking Jean for a high roller, tumbling into bed with him until her meal ticket finds out and kicks her to the curb.

One year later and still smitten with Irene, Jean tries to fill the gentleman’s Prada shoes by digging deep into his savings account, pension and then some to keep her in the lifestyle to which she’s accustomed. Unwilling to change her ways, Irene cleans the man out in one painfully memorable scene that finds Jean awakening to the sound of Irene ripping tags off couture each with a price that makes our economic stimulus package seem like earnings from a child’s lemonade stand. Soon, Jean himself finds he’s the target of a wealthy, older female “cougar” and becomes both Irene’s friend and rival as they try to extract as many gifts as possible from their… ahem, benefactors.

Although we all know just who will end up with whom before the final credits roll, watching the two charismatic leads and their millionaire lovers volley back and forth like pairs in doubles tennis is pure bliss. More importantly, Priceless serves as further proof of not only Salvadori’s directorial skill in the genre but more so in the wake of too many by-the-numbers American rom-coms, that much like Chanel perfume, nobody does sophisticated, irresistible romance like the French.