USA, Nancy Meyers, 2003
Anyone who thinks that a five minute over-the-top crying scene by a hysterical Diane Keaton is a laugh-riot will love this movie. It had me groaning and reaching for another glass of wine to dull the pain. And this role earned her an Oscar nomination?!!? Must have been the Academy voters’ way of rewarding a romantic comedy that had the chutzpah to pair a middle-aged man with a woman his own age!
Did Garry Marshall direct this piece of dreck? No, it’s Nancy Meyers who’s responsible for this lame bit o’ fluff, not only for directing but writing it. (She’s now tied with Nora Ephron as my least favorite female director of all time.) And remember the good-old-days when Jack Nicholson actually acted, like you know, as a character, and didn’t just show up on the set wearing dark glasses–acting like Jack Nicholson? And this movie clinches it for Keanu Reeves…the man couldn’t act his way out of a telephone booth.
My sister asked me why, if I really didn’t like this movie I gave it two stars. Good question. I must have been in a forgiving mood at the time. It should really be a one-star movie (I have to save the zeros for really special films.) I guess I can’t help but reward a movie that allows romantic comedy to act its age. And I really liked Diane Keaton’s beach house. So that was worth inflating the grade another star. But we really didn’t need to see Jack Nicholson’s bare ass three times (!!) That knocks it down another half-star. So there. [* 1/2]