How Lo can you go?
Cinemas in the Algarve region of Portugal have retained the custom of inserting an interval during the main feature. This is slightly annoying at times, but at others it provides a welcome break time for a quick smoke and time to decide whether there is any point going back to see the second half of the film. The break is thus a wonderful opportunity to slip away quietly without having to climb all over the other members of the audience midway through the film.
Sadly, I saw "Monster-in-Law" in Lisbon, where there was no such luxury, so I was forced to sit through the entire nine hours. OK, 90 minutes, but didn't Einstein say something about relativity
Admittedly, the film poster itself had sent up enough warning signals to discourage the "floating viewer": in the same way as you can be sure that any film starring Keanu Reeves will be drivel, you can count on anything featuring J-Lo being suspect at best. However, I have always found Wanda Sykes very funny, and Jane Fonda is usually worth a look.
Within 10 minutes, I was wishing I'd gone to see Crash instead. Or anything. Or a blank wall.
The "scene" is quickly set. J-Lo is the perfect, if a little quirky, woman, looking for the perfect man. Her friends the obligatory gay man and slightly trashy girl assure her that he is out there somewhere. Sure enough, he appears in the form of a perfect surgeon with a perfect physique, perfect teeth and perfect designer stubble ... Unfortunately, his mother (Jane Fonda) is a perfect harridan fresh off the back of a nervous breakdown or so we are asked to believe.
This is where the "fun" should start, with the general idea, I guess, being to make an "all-chick" version of "Meet the Parents". Why? Good question, and one to which I am still seeking an answer.
The plot, such as it is, is transparently thin there cannot surely be anyone with an IQ higher than their shoe size who could not have predicted the ending (right down to the script) before the opening credits were over.
The only element of interest that remained was to see what the cast could do within the framework they had been given. Not a lot, it seems. But to be fair, Trevor Nunn and the Royal Shakespeare Company couldn't have done anything with this turkey.
The film limps from scene to scene with no sense of continuity or purpose, the only objective seems to be to reach the grand finale, which still manages to disappoint.
Questions must be asked.
Why did Jane Fonda end a 15-year break from the big screen to star in this nightmare? Did she lose a bet? In the same vein,why would Wanda Sykes debase her obvious talent to take on this quasi-Uncle Tom role? True, she was about the only person worth watching in the entire debacle, but she deserves a better vehicle than this.
Sadly, J-Lo looked at home here, seeming very much at ease in an over-hyped production with no substance at all.
Michael Vartan (the perfect man) manages to get away more-or-less unscathed, but only because his role is so peripheral that you can easily forget that he's there. I have a nagging suspicion that this film may not appear too prominently on his CV.
As far as I can see, this is Anya Kochoff's first foray into the world of screen writing. May it be her last. Please.
Cinemas in the Algarve region of Portugal have retained the custom of inserting an interval during the main feature. This is slightly annoying at times, but at others it provides a welcome break time for a quick smoke and time to decide whether there is any point going back to see the second half of the film. The break is thus a wonderful opportunity to slip away quietly without having to climb all over the other members of the audience midway through the film.
Sadly, I saw "Monster-in-Law" in Lisbon, where there was no such luxury, so I was forced to sit through the entire nine hours. OK, 90 minutes, but didn't Einstein say something about relativity
Admittedly, the film poster itself had sent up enough warning signals to discourage the "floating viewer": in the same way as you can be sure that any film starring Keanu Reeves will be drivel, you can count on anything featuring J-Lo being suspect at best. However, I have always found Wanda Sykes very funny, and Jane Fonda is usually worth a look.
Within 10 minutes, I was wishing I'd gone to see Crash instead. Or anything. Or a blank wall.
The "scene" is quickly set. J-Lo is the perfect, if a little quirky, woman, looking for the perfect man. Her friends the obligatory gay man and slightly trashy girl assure her that he is out there somewhere. Sure enough, he appears in the form of a perfect surgeon with a perfect physique, perfect teeth and perfect designer stubble ... Unfortunately, his mother (Jane Fonda) is a perfect harridan fresh off the back of a nervous breakdown or so we are asked to believe.
This is where the "fun" should start, with the general idea, I guess, being to make an "all-chick" version of "Meet the Parents". Why? Good question, and one to which I am still seeking an answer.
The plot, such as it is, is transparently thin there cannot surely be anyone with an IQ higher than their shoe size who could not have predicted the ending (right down to the script) before the opening credits were over.
The only element of interest that remained was to see what the cast could do within the framework they had been given. Not a lot, it seems. But to be fair, Trevor Nunn and the Royal Shakespeare Company couldn't have done anything with this turkey.
The film limps from scene to scene with no sense of continuity or purpose, the only objective seems to be to reach the grand finale, which still manages to disappoint.
Questions must be asked.
Why did Jane Fonda end a 15-year break from the big screen to star in this nightmare? Did she lose a bet? In the same vein,why would Wanda Sykes debase her obvious talent to take on this quasi-Uncle Tom role? True, she was about the only person worth watching in the entire debacle, but she deserves a better vehicle than this.
Sadly, J-Lo looked at home here, seeming very much at ease in an over-hyped production with no substance at all.
Michael Vartan (the perfect man) manages to get away more-or-less unscathed, but only because his role is so peripheral that you can easily forget that he's there. I have a nagging suspicion that this film may not appear too prominently on his CV.
As far as I can see, this is Anya Kochoff's first foray into the world of screen writing. May it be her last. Please.