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Review Uploaded
06/06/03

1 hr. 34 mins.
Starring: Renee Zellweger, Ewan McGregor, Sarah Paulson, David Hyde Pierce, Rachel Dratch, Jack Plotnick, Tony Randall
Directed by: Peyton Reed

Rating: ** stars (out of 4 stars)

Gee, just what the moviegoers were clamoring for-a contemporary spin on the infectiously quirky Rock Hudson/Doris Day romantic comedies of yesteryear. In director Peyton Reed’s stylishly saccharine-coated but uneven feminist fable Down with Love, this showcase wants to revisit the old-fashioned and cutesy conflicts of male-female angst-ridden relations so cleverly crafted in the melodious mayhem that gave definition to the loopy lovebird flicks of the late ‘50s and early ‘60s. The trouble with Down with Love, among other things, is that it has an annoying ambivalence about what its identity is suppose to represent. Does this movie want to be a naughty parody devoted to skewering old Hollywood’s take on the antiquated notion of sexual relationships between the contrasting sexes? Or maybe Reed’s updated narrative is simply a celebrated toast to the nostalgic lovey-dovey giddiness that played so well on the big screen some four decades ago? Whatever its intentions are, Down with Love doesn’t even possess the dippy level of misunderstood sexual mischievousness so pronounced in a predictably heavy-handed ‘70s double-entendre Three’s Company rerun.

Although there was a sense of wide-eyed innocence and the emergence of gender-based liberation in the passé romantic fare that paired Hudson and Day so marvelously in “classics” such as Pillow Talk and Lover Come Back, the hokey happenings were so essential because they reflected somewhat of a mature awakening in cinema at that point in time. However, it’s not quite clear as to why Reed would invite the conventional marshmallow moments of yesterday’s zany romantic romps by transferring the madcap format into a modern-day strained and clichéd session. Down with Love won’t necessarily cater to an audience old enough to miss the heyday of the old school shenanigans or particularly satisfy those too young that possibly will be indifferent toward this retro-popcorn fairy tale of resident bad boy who meets opinionated independent girl.

The setting is based in 1963 New York City where we are introduced to staunch feminist author Barbara Novack (Renee Zellweger). Her written work Down with Love is a best seller and it advocates that women need to take charge of their dreary lives thus avoiding the pitfalls of being categorized as simply the provider of emotional support for men or for their children. Instead, Barbara insists that women should be more commanding beyond the safety net of love and marriage. If anything, they should be just as adventurous as their male counterparts in terms of treating sex as a random activity. As a matter of fact, she thinks they should be ambitious professionally as well. Barbara Novak is so pervasive in her credo that she has founded the prosperous Now magazine. In short, why should the estrogen crowd settle for anything less, right?

Meet the dashing Catcher Block (Ewan McGregor), a noted English writer for a highly revered men’s magazine. The suave scriber enters the picture with the notion of squashing know-it-all Barbara’s so-called “stability of non-traditional womanhood”. The mission: Catcher will try to expose Barbara’s weakness pertaining to her daunting manifesto of feminism by having her fall in love with him thus disproving her rabble-rousing theories. Hence, he’ll look to contradict his fellow perky journalist’s ardent stance and reduce her to the very same thing she denounces-being that of a starry-eyed gal looking for a man to be her true support system. Catcher will assume the guise of a disillusioned southern astronaut with pending sexual issues that need to be addressed. If anything, the belief may be held that overly self-assured and sanctimonious women of Barbara Novak’s ilk seem to have the tendency to adopt the “rescue me” or “pity me” mode therefore lending an inkling of underlying superiority to her mindset. Hopefully, Catcher is looking to use this misleading persona of his as a tool of vulnerability for Barbara to eventually embrace unknowingly. Of course, whether Barbara gets her comeuppance based on Catcher’s scheme remains to be seen.

Catcher definitely has his work to contend with since he has to challenge the cunning commentary of Barbara’s revolutionary book by writing his own critique for a written piece he’s working on for his outfit. Essentially, this cad can accomplish two things based on his method of revenge: spotlight the hypocrisy of this radical Gloria Steinheim-esque troublemaker and try to salvage his roguish reputation as a playboy seeing as though the Novak empowering pages have put a kink in his bed-hopping proclivities. Since Catcher is a notorious ladies man that hasn’t had any difficulty attracting the opposite sex around town one would think that the free-spirited Barbara Novak is no match for this guy’s inherent slickness. So the golden question remains: will Barbara melt in the hunky hands of the womanizing Catcher much like a December ice cube on an August barbeque grill and succumb to the temptations of being a career-oriented female opting to love a man as a preferred form of emotional completeness?

In addition to pondering the fate of Barbara’s decision to abandon her feminist face at the expense of a defensive swinger in the person of the spunky-named Catcher Block, the film tosses at us the usual standby supporting sidekicks that try to infuse the proceedings with a reliable nudge of wryness. Emmy-winning actor David Hyde Pierce (from NBC-TV’s Frasier) signs onboard as Catcher’s sophisticated but nebbish boss Peter McManus. Coincidentally, Pierce’s McManus does make for an interesting reference point to the prissy pals that Tony Randall (who incidentally has a cameo as a moody publisher in the film) used to inhabit as the droll comic relief to leading man Rock Hudson in the original campy romantic comedies. Sarah Paulson is upbeat as Barbara’s appointed editor Vikki Hiller. There’s an innate intimate feeling that awkward Peter has for the pushy Vikki that’s somewhat sweet and refreshing to witness. Certainly the buffoonish antics of the supporting players Pierce and Paulson feels more compelling and carefree than the run-of-the-mill connection realized by the headliners Zellweger and McGregor.

There are a few problematic elements that prevent Down with Love from being the rowdy reminiscent romp it could have been in joyous fashion. Reed does have the shrewd eye for the way he dresses up his flawed film in lavish sixties pastel colors that recall the unique look that stimulated the mindless romantic ditties of that era just before the turmoil that overtook the turbulent decade as filmmaking became more provocative. But beyond capturing the tacky and bright set designs and flaky situational chaos that reigned supreme in the now dinosaur romantic comedies of ages ago, Reed fails to tap into anything else that remotely exudes the suggestive playful nature of the Hudson-Day collaboration. The teasing cliffhanger of the “will she go all the way with him or not” sentiment was an absolute and delightful carrot to dangle over the head of a hungry rabbit based on the nutty and trivial tension it provided so entertainingly. However, the tongue-in-cheek approach to Reed’s Down with Love is desperately barren and suggests nothing more than an uninspired copycat concoction of what was once a winning formula back in the days when this genre was effectively relevant.

One of the factors that need to be questioned is the choice of casting leads Zellweger and McGregor. Sure, both performers are attractive and energetic enough to have pulled off this potentially spry material where some sparks could have flew freely and frequently. Unfortunately, the lacking script needlessly traps them in this tripe of endless sight gags and misguided sexual sequences that miss more than they hit the mark. The chemistry between Zellweger and McGregor has the intoxicating allure of sniffing glue. Zellweger’s Barbara Novak doesn’t incorporate the three-dimensional cynicism or sympathy it takes for us to buy into her crusading heroine. Instead, she comes off as a silly sass whose passion for dancing in lingerie in plain view of her penthouse windows is pointless if not pathetic in its immediate conception. And when McGregor’s Catcher Block takes off his shirt to announce his bare chest to the anticipation of mouth-watering female fans or anyone else who cares for that matter, one is left wondering whether this gesture was the only legitimate measure that the filmmakers could ensure in conjuring up a flimsy dose of pseudo-charm to ignite this dandy dud.

It’s too bad that both Pierce and Paulson get the short end of the stick in this case. Whenever Paulson’s chippy editor Vikki isn’t gushing over how sensational looking Zellweger’s Barbara is in appearance then there’s Pierce’s insecure and doofus magazine owner Peter reminding us how irresistible and cocky McGregor’s Catcher is in comparison. True, there is not a distinctively jolting charge that Pierce brings to the role of the typical tagalong boss/buddy with unfulfilled affections nor does Paulson offer anything exceptional as the book publicist deserving more kudos while in the shadow of her more colorful and creative sister-in-arms mouthpiece. Still, the pesky pair is more responsive and believable in their comedic roles as compared to the lackluster efforts generated by their highly profiled co-stars in the presence of extremely touted musical movie megastars Zellweger (Chicago) and McGregor (Moulin Rouge).

If anything, truly diligent romantic comedies need to overflow with passion, purpose, and persistence. Remarkably, that is what is seriously missing in Reed’s misdirected exposition in that the cavalier attitude and creativity is thrown out the door in exchange for a farce that forgets to be substantive in its intended spontaneity. Without any genuine emphasis or accountability on the part of well-paid and talented lead actors to properly conduct reasonable performances in an effective frothy romantic comedy, Down with Love merely becomes another high priced piece of hokum that will be just another afterthought in the fickle minds of filmgoers. The notoriously spotty screenplay coupled with an indecisive movie that doesn’t know which path to travel down in its sketchy presentation certainly spells disaster with a capital “D”!

In due time, there will be other opportunities for gals to fawn over McGregor’s shirtless frame or guys to marvel at Zellweger’s puffy lips and seductive squint. However, these characteristic side notes shouldn’t be the ultimate criteria for those who are fascinated with how a true blue romantic comedy oozes it percolating magic. Rock and Doris, no need to fret-your favorable and fluffy cinematic sexual entanglements are well preserved and are in no danger of being upstaged any time soon...at least of all by the likes of Reed’s disjointed demonstration of unrivaled “Love”.