My in-laws live a few blocks from a suburban multiplex, and the other night, when we were at their place for dinner, they agreed to watch the kids so that Amanda and I could go on a "date" to the movies. I wanted to see Funny People, but they recommended The Ugly Truth, and it seems we were obliged to do as the baby sitters suggested.
As they say on my side of the family: Uff-dah. The movie "reviews" available on this site are generally for Netflix rentals of movies of the kind that are often called "films." I try, if I see an opening, to make fun of them. But what to say about a movie that isn't even trying to be good? At least, I hope it isn't. The idea, apparently, was to work into a romantic comedy some guy-friendly put-downs of the chick-view of things that makes romantic comedies possible. There is, however, a reason you usually do not drink Bud with your Twinkies. As in pornography, the "plot" is just rickety scaffolding on which to climb while taking short breaks from delivering what the audience is thought to want: in this case, "zingers" directed at an antagonist who, no doubt about it, is going to land happily in the bed of the enemy. Fifteen bucks, and you won't get those two hours back, either.
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