Though Garry Marshall hasn’t made a decent flick since 1990’s Pretty Woman he still apparently wields a not inconsiderable amount of clout in Hollywood. What else could explain the all-star ensemble of actors who gathered for Valentine’s Day? Among the major names found probing the turgid depths of the nearly 80-year-old director’s insipid rom-com are Julia Roberts Anne Hathaway Ashton Kutcher Jessica Alba Jamie Foxx Jessica Biel Taylor Lautner and various other prominent actors who either owe favors to Marshall or whose incriminating photos he holds in his possession.
A slice-of-life tale unfolding in Los Angeles over the course of a single Valentine’s Day the film chronicles the romantic adventures of a diverse cast of characters at various stages of relationships and encompassing virtually every conceivable demographic category. Their ages backgrounds and perspectives often dramatically differ but they each share one trait in common: Almost without exception they are all ceaselessly painfully disastrously unfunny.
Some temper their dishumor with a dose of the annoying like Kutcher whose dopey florist Marshall unwisely chose to anchor Valentine’s Day’s story around. Others add a dash of the preposterous like Roberts dressed in military fatigues in a laughable attempt to play a U.S. Army Captain on leave from the front. Still others add cloying sentiment to the mix like Bryce Robinson’s lovelorn 10-year-old whose grandparents played by Shirley MacLaine and Hector Elizondo ply him with nostalgic romantic tips pre-fabricated for maximum inter-generational cuteness. Whatever your preferred method of cinematic torture may be you’ll undoubtedly encounter it in this film.
In addition to challenging the pain threshold Valentine’s Day offers a test of endurance as well its story requiring over two hours to satisfy the narrative demands of its swollen cast. If you didn’t despise Hallmark’s ersatz holiday before you certainly will after enduring this Bataan Death March of rom-coms.
With stories like this who even needs the “Inspired by true events” shield? Primeval tells of the world’s most prolific killer Gustave. You see Gustave is a crocodile and he remains at large to this day. His thirst for human blood goes unpublicized until he chows down on a white woman at which point an American newsman Tim Manfrey (Dominic Purcell) his cameraman Steven (Orlando Jones) and TV personality Aviva (Brooke Langton) head down to Burundi Africa where they hope to document the capture of Gustave. They’re joined by a wildlife preservationist of sorts (Gideon Emery)—a rare breed in a post-Steve Irwin world—who doesn’t want to harm Gustave. The deep jungles of Africa become a veritable obstacle course when the locals embroiled in a long-standing civil war and unwilling to have some damn Yankees televising their homeland stand in the crew’s way not to mention Gustave proving an evasive 20-foot-long um little bugger! The names might not ring a bell but you’ve seen these three stooges before--all on TV in fact. Purcell is currently enjoying about half the 15 minutes of fame of Wentworth Miller on Fox’s slipping Prison Break. Purcell plays Tim with steel and virility as he hides his Aussie accent for the most part but he’s still got a ways to go to reach Clive Owen’s caliber of acting--and more importantly Owen’s caliber of roles. Langton of The Net (the TV show adapted from the Sandra Bullock movie of the same name) and Melrose Place fame shows off the beauty that will afford endless opportunities to prove herself as a “real” actress—which is ironically similar to her character’s plight—but will never get there with roles in movies like Primeval. And Jones still best known for and plagued by his 7-Up commercials is in true negligible-sidekick mode here--worthy of a snicker approximately once out of every dozen times he tries overzealously to get one. Jaws may come to mind based on the water creature-stalking-man plot but well it’s tough to even mention those two in the same sentence. Director Michael Katleman a TV fixture himself at least doesn’t even aim high enough to reach that level. No from the get-go he’s shooting more for an Anacondas feel—and yes that’s the horrific sequel to the so-terrible-it’s-fun J.Lo “original.” Katleman almost reaches Anacondas-ian highs but not quite. Among other notable problems the director cannot for one moment strike the right balance between the aforementioned level of guilty pleasure-dom and genuine horror. Instead he catches us off guard with what are supposed to be the thrills—and also with the comedy. Finally once Gustave is revealed which should essentially be the moviegoers’ reward the croc looks more a prop sitting in a theme-park lot. And the script from John D. Brancato and Michael Ferris (Terminator 3 co-writers)—well let’s just hope with the story being uber-derivative and cheesy enough as it is Orlando Jones ad-libbed all of his unlaughable comedy!
One of the more elaborate and creative titles in movie history The Man is yet another anti-buddy-cop flick--a grain of sand on a desert at this point. The story revolves around Special Agent Derrick Vann (Jackson) who is out to get the man (get it?) that killed his partner. But a case of mistaken identity leads him to Andy Fidler (Eugene Levy) a chatty dental supply salesman with too many questions. Of course it's not match made in heaven. Vann and Andy's contrasting personalities--Vann's is hard-edged and no-nonsense; Andy's is affable to a fault--set into motion constant obstacles to overcome and more importantly the obligatory hijinks. Andy's nice-guy clumsiness leads them to the killers and then invariably away from the them. It also drives Vann crazy but he knows that Andy is a necessary evil if he wants to pin the bad guys. Ultimately what started off as (comedic) hatred for one another winds up mutual respect. Can you say sequel? Neither can we.
Jackson yells scowls furrows his brows evokes his Pulp Fiction cool (briefly) and yells some more. No doubt he can yell with the best of 'em and even the granddaddy of yellers Al Pacino would be proud of this performance. The yang to Vann's yin of course is Levy's Andy. The two actors sure did their best to cultivate the most divergent characters possible and at least to that end they succeed. There is an engaging interplay between the two but it's just been done so many times. On his part Levy has now gone from playing one crazy kook after another in Christopher Guest's offbeat-but-hilarious comedies to almost dare we say leading-man status. But unfortunately as a character actor he is much more enjoyable and his talents better utilized when he isn't in every scene.
Director Les Mayfield has a history of making minor hits out of bad movies. He did so with 1999's Blue Streak 1997's Flubber and 1992's Encino Man (yes one man's guilty pleasure is another man's fruit of his labor). But his luck too might've run out with The Man. You can just see the desperation. When the fart jokes are the movie's best laughs it's safe to say you're in trouble. Fart jokes aside there are at most three genuinely funny scenes in the film for those who haven't yet dozed off. The director and writer clearly choose to play it safe in every facet. In fact the infants bawling in the front row are doing so because they too feel like they could've seamlessly written and directed The Man--and on a smaller budget.