One of the great things about being a movie reviewer is the chance I have to watch movies I’ve been wanting to see, and also to see movies I didn’t know existed. We’ve really had a lot of good cinema over the years, and, I’m sorry to say, we’ve had a lot that wasn’t so great. It is to those films I dedicate today’s blog. You can call it an anti-review, if you like.
“My Life So Far” stars Colin Firth, which was enough to recommend it to me. He’s the father of a large brood and he’s a thoughtful man of intelligence and music. However, the story is told through the eyes of his ten-year-old son who discovers some nude pictures in the attic, finds himself fascinated by that, and then transfers that fascination onto his nanny. Not going to work for me, even if it does have Colin Firth in it.
“Notting Hill” really should have been good. With stars like Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant, I thought I would really enjoy it. But Julia’s character uses Hugh’s, blames him for everything that goes wrong, and then asks for him back without any real apology. Add to that the incessantly foul mouth of Hugh’s roommate, and it was all ruined for me.
“Because I Said So” promised to be cute. Diane Keaton is a single mother who has raised her daughters to maturity and she has helped them along the way, and now they want to help her. Yet, for some reason, they can’t seem to stop themselves from talking incessantly and crudely about sex through the entire film. Nope.
“Rumor Has It” should have been enjoyable. Jennifer Aniston has always wondered if she was adopted. She’s nothing like her father, and when she finds out that her mother did have an affair, she decides to figure it out. As it turns out, her grandmother was the woman the book “Mrs. Robinson” was based on, and this man had an affair with both her mother and her grandmother. Granted, he’s Kevin Costner, so I can see some attraction there. She goes to find him, discovers he’s not her father, and then she sleeps with him, too. Three generations who can’t stay away from this man? That’s a bit much for me. And I can’t even fathom going from thinking a man is your father to going to bed with him. That’s just . . . icky.
There you have it – my anti-review. Take from it what you will.
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