In this whimsical Woody Allen fantasy, anxious writer Gil (Owen Wilson) and his cranky fiancee (Rachel McAdams) visit Paris. One night, Gil hails a mysterious vintage Peugeot that transports him to the Roaring ’20s. He then magically returns every evening to mingle with luminaries like F. Scott Fitzgerald and Pablo Picasso (Marion Cotillard plays the artist’s mistress!). Wilson charms as a romantic enamored with the past, but McAdams can’t overcome her shrewish role. Overall, the romp is a delight and a nostalgic postcard to the City of Light.
Review: Hall Pass
In this far-fetched, mostly unfunny comedy, Christina Applegate and Jenna Fischer give Owen Wilson and Jason Sudeikis a week off marriage to fool around with other women. Directed by the Farrelly Brothers, the flick has gross gags involving penises, pooping and masturbation. One plus: Applegate, as always, shows good comic timing, snarking about the men’s behavior, “This is why the terrorists hate us.”
Movie Review: The Little Fockers
Us Rating: **
Ten years have passed since we first chuckled at Ben Stiller’s tightly wound Gaylord Focker, but the joke’s worn him. The humor in this installment — which the male nurse preps for his twins’ fifth birthday and deals with his crazy in-laws and parents — feels played out. The most desperate gag: Robert De Niro‘s meddling father-in-law takes and erectile disfuntion med and nurse Focker has to pierce the pesky pecker with a shot of adrenaline.
While bits are occasionally funny — like when Stiller’s sex therapist mama (Barbra Streisand) talks on TV about her son’s performance issues in the bedroom — a farce that should have been light as souffle feels like it’s made of cement. If you do see the flick, stay for the closing credits, when Stiller offers a loose stand-up routine. Now that could have been a movie!
Movie Review: How Do You Know
Us Rating: **
A fit and frisky Reese Witherspoon plays an aging pro softball player who is wooed by an axed, government-indicted businessman (Paul Rudd) and an immature major-league baseball pitcher (Owen Wilson). The leading lady has never looked better, yet she doesn’t really spark with either guy. Wilson’s character is nothing but a caddish commitment-phobe; his $14 million–a-year sports star seems so beneath her. (After their first night in bed, he offers her a toothbrush from a drawer with dozens of them in all colors and sizes!) Meanwhile, the immensely appealing Rudd comes off like Witherspoon’s puppy-dog best friend, not a bedmate. By the time all the one-liners have run dry and Witherspoon makes her big (and inevitable) choice, the audience no longer cares. The question isn’t how do you know, but how did writer-director James L. Brooks manage to waste this array of talent.
