I had expected from this film a relatively undistinguished, harmless little romantic comedy. What instead unfolded was two-plus hours of the most unremitting, insulting, film clichés imaginable.
The film consists of nine simultaneously-running subplots. Each subplot manages to be absurdly implausible, yet predictable at every turn. Among the worst:
One tracked a geeky fellow who was convinced that the way to turn his romantic life around was to impress American girls with his English accent. Each scene of that plot consisted of something like the following:
"I'm going off to the US, where the chicks will think I'm a coolly sophisticated Brit!"
(His friend): "You're crazy!"
"California girls here I come!"
"Stop!"
And so on.
And on.
In the "payoff" scene, at film's end, he does, in fact, bag three hot American girls in a bar. Why this scene was worth endless repetition along the way is a mystery.
Another similarly repetitive plot involved two people performing together in a porn film. They strike up a conversation and start forming a tentative relationship. The "joke" is that these strangers are being sexually intimate, yet are acting like awkward teenagers as they stumble their way to going out on a date. They're porn stars, but they're shy! Isn't that funny? Ho ho ho! This might have an amusing one-five-minute-scene joke, but this film stretches into a film-long subplot, complete with the male rejoicing over getting a good-night kiss from his new love. Barf.
Perhaps the worst one involved Colin Firth. Betrayed early in the film, he's heartbroken. He is assigned a non-English-speaking housekeeper, whom it takes exactly two seconds to discern will be his romantic salvation.
This subplot builds to a supposedly climactic scene where he, with a big crowd in tow, descends upon a restaurant where she works, to propose marriage. He awkwardly declares his love, shots of all of the other diners looking confused and expectant, she says yes, then everyone breaks out in applause and there isn't a dry eye to be found. Argh.
This film didn't even bother to construct a buildup to this climactic moment. The two characters have barely a few verbal exchanges prior to this scene.
And the film uses all of the other clichés: her brusque Mediterranean father in the crowd, her sister egging her on, etc. None of these people were actually developed characters. They are just insulting stereotypes thrown in for the final set piece.
In another subplot, Hugh Grant plays a newly elected British Prime Minister. He doesn't bother to act differently from the way he normally does, the same stammering, yet somehow debonair, Hugh Grant character that he always plays.
He walks in off the street to 10 Downing, and is introduced to his staff, one of whom, again, can immediately be identified as his eventual love interest. Power Prime Minister falls for humble servant girl -- how romantic! Who would have thought?
The Prime Minister's scenes seem to have scripted by a 10-year-old. It's hard to depict politics or diplomacy more childishly than most mainstream films do, but this film manages. Grant is shown meeting with his Cabinet, with dialogue along the lines of:
"Mr. Prime Minister, you really need to get tough with those Americans."
"No, I don't think I will. Like it or not, America is the most powerful country in the world, so I think we'll just have to be nice to them."
Yes, it's about that sophisticated.
But soon the evil Americans show up, led by Billy Bob Thornton, looking hickish and sinister, another example of the film's relentless caricaturing. There is soon a negotiating scene that goes something like:
(Americans, haughtily): "We will be continuing the policies of the previous Administration."
(Brits): "But they are bad policies!"
But the Americans won't bend, so "bad" policies it will be. (Ah, the simple logic of film. Let's have good policies instead of bad ones -- Brilliant!)
Later, when in private discussions with President Billy Bob, Grant steps out and returns to find the Prez nuzzling his housekeeper. So, the Americans are not only unreasonable negotiators but lechers, too! At the next press conference, Hugh's backbone stiffens, he emphatically declares that the Brits aren't going to be pushed around anymore.
Cut to shots of applauding, grateful Brits, wiping tears from their eyes. No kidding.
The writing is adolescent from start to finish. Supposedly about romance, it was about anything but: It was about how many times the writer/director could haul out the same tiresome, insulting, manipulative stereotypes and syrupy music.
The film begins with shots of people embracing at airports. It's a clue. The writer likes the image of love, but isn't terribly interested in what goes into it.
We have a new plague among screenwriters: Richard Curtis. He also gave us Four Weddings and a Funeral, which was similarly, though not quite as spectacularly, awful.
Is it really the case that filmgoers will find such dreck droll and clever if only it is dressed up with a British accent? There seems to be no other explanation for this man continuing to be given financial backing.
The film consists of nine simultaneously-running subplots. Each subplot manages to be absurdly implausible, yet predictable at every turn. Among the worst:
One tracked a geeky fellow who was convinced that the way to turn his romantic life around was to impress American girls with his English accent. Each scene of that plot consisted of something like the following:
"I'm going off to the US, where the chicks will think I'm a coolly sophisticated Brit!"
(His friend): "You're crazy!"
"California girls here I come!"
"Stop!"
And so on.
And on.
In the "payoff" scene, at film's end, he does, in fact, bag three hot American girls in a bar. Why this scene was worth endless repetition along the way is a mystery.
Another similarly repetitive plot involved two people performing together in a porn film. They strike up a conversation and start forming a tentative relationship. The "joke" is that these strangers are being sexually intimate, yet are acting like awkward teenagers as they stumble their way to going out on a date. They're porn stars, but they're shy! Isn't that funny? Ho ho ho! This might have an amusing one-five-minute-scene joke, but this film stretches into a film-long subplot, complete with the male rejoicing over getting a good-night kiss from his new love. Barf.
Perhaps the worst one involved Colin Firth. Betrayed early in the film, he's heartbroken. He is assigned a non-English-speaking housekeeper, whom it takes exactly two seconds to discern will be his romantic salvation.
This subplot builds to a supposedly climactic scene where he, with a big crowd in tow, descends upon a restaurant where she works, to propose marriage. He awkwardly declares his love, shots of all of the other diners looking confused and expectant, she says yes, then everyone breaks out in applause and there isn't a dry eye to be found. Argh.
This film didn't even bother to construct a buildup to this climactic moment. The two characters have barely a few verbal exchanges prior to this scene.
And the film uses all of the other clichés: her brusque Mediterranean father in the crowd, her sister egging her on, etc. None of these people were actually developed characters. They are just insulting stereotypes thrown in for the final set piece.
In another subplot, Hugh Grant plays a newly elected British Prime Minister. He doesn't bother to act differently from the way he normally does, the same stammering, yet somehow debonair, Hugh Grant character that he always plays.
He walks in off the street to 10 Downing, and is introduced to his staff, one of whom, again, can immediately be identified as his eventual love interest. Power Prime Minister falls for humble servant girl -- how romantic! Who would have thought?
The Prime Minister's scenes seem to have scripted by a 10-year-old. It's hard to depict politics or diplomacy more childishly than most mainstream films do, but this film manages. Grant is shown meeting with his Cabinet, with dialogue along the lines of:
"Mr. Prime Minister, you really need to get tough with those Americans."
"No, I don't think I will. Like it or not, America is the most powerful country in the world, so I think we'll just have to be nice to them."
Yes, it's about that sophisticated.
But soon the evil Americans show up, led by Billy Bob Thornton, looking hickish and sinister, another example of the film's relentless caricaturing. There is soon a negotiating scene that goes something like:
(Americans, haughtily): "We will be continuing the policies of the previous Administration."
(Brits): "But they are bad policies!"
But the Americans won't bend, so "bad" policies it will be. (Ah, the simple logic of film. Let's have good policies instead of bad ones -- Brilliant!)
Later, when in private discussions with President Billy Bob, Grant steps out and returns to find the Prez nuzzling his housekeeper. So, the Americans are not only unreasonable negotiators but lechers, too! At the next press conference, Hugh's backbone stiffens, he emphatically declares that the Brits aren't going to be pushed around anymore.
Cut to shots of applauding, grateful Brits, wiping tears from their eyes. No kidding.
The writing is adolescent from start to finish. Supposedly about romance, it was about anything but: It was about how many times the writer/director could haul out the same tiresome, insulting, manipulative stereotypes and syrupy music.
The film begins with shots of people embracing at airports. It's a clue. The writer likes the image of love, but isn't terribly interested in what goes into it.
We have a new plague among screenwriters: Richard Curtis. He also gave us Four Weddings and a Funeral, which was similarly, though not quite as spectacularly, awful.
Is it really the case that filmgoers will find such dreck droll and clever if only it is dressed up with a British accent? There seems to be no other explanation for this man continuing to be given financial backing.