critic_at_large

I'm sure I'm not the target demographic for this film, but it was still stupider than most in this genre. Anna Faris has been funny in past films. She is not here. Ryan Reynolds was okay, and the Mary of the film (as in Cameron Diaz' character in There's Something About Mary), worked as the high school hottie who 10 years later is still, improbably, hot and single. But the funny moments were few and far between, the slapstick comedy unbelievable and tired, and the impossible redemption of the central character inevitable. Chris Klein was good, but his small role was not enough to float this tanker. Finally, I'm still scratching my head wondering about the Ryan Reynolds solo that plays alongside the credits. Did someone actually think this bit was funny for more than 5 seconds? I stayed during this assuming there would be some choice outtakes. Nope. After what seemed like an eternity, and while Reynolds was still singing, I couldn't take any more and ran screaming from the theater.

People wax wistful about the musicals from the Golden Age of Film, and not without cause, I suppose. But this film is really a demonstration of why the format no longer works in American Cinema. First of all, this is a direct translation of the play onto film -- so much so that I actually felt like I was watching a play instead of a movie. And that made me much more conscious of stage direction, lighting, scenery and dialog. Not a good thing.

In fact, nothing about this film worked for me. The plot is ridiculous, the dramatic developments cliché and the acting inexplicably stilted, as if the actors were trying to make sure the people in the last row could see their physical reactions to plot points. Hello, but acting for film is different. The audience can see your face just fine, thanks. We don't need a sigh or a posture change to communicate what you're feeling. I hope this is the last of the Chicago-copycat musicals - I know it won't be, but I can dream.

Kudos to Jake and Heath for taking on this challenge, but not even Ang Lee's direction could save this hackneyed Harlequin novel from the trash bin. Leaving aside the distracting and unlikely gay cowboy gimmick, the plot and drama were both predictable and melodramatic. The score, sound and cinematography are spectacular, and for better or for worse, Ang Lee is skillful enough as a director to bestow unwarranted gravitas on thin material (think Crouching Tiger and Hulk). But make no mistake, this source material is thin: instead of flying martial artists and giant green mutants, we have gay cowboys from the 60s. It's like a Saturday Night Live sketch lengthened and converted to a drama. Give Cinderella Man the Oscar next Spring - this film doesn't deserve it.