Ugh. Okay, I think when my best friend Bunny Walker recommended I watch and review a movie with Sarah Jessica Parker in it, she was thinking the main issue I'd have is the hatred I used to harbor for her based on my scorching Matthew Broderick crush - but I've grown out of that. Way out of it.
You see, my best friend's favorite reviews of mine involve films I despise - and even without still obsessing over SJP's husbro, being forced to watch something she's in is a pretty safe bet I'll volunteer to throw a rock at my television and quit the planet for the evening.
But I love my Bunny Walker, and I'll do almost anything she asks, except watch this damnable thing a second time.
Allow me to heave a sigh and get started.
First thing's first - as Netflix took its time loading, this is the image it offered me as I waited:
Kate (SJP) and Richard Reddy (Greg Kinnear) are working married parents who haven't yet figured out that it's no longer the 60s and that everything involving the house and children isn't momma's sole responsibility. I mean fuck - when was the critically acclaimed novel this film was based on written? Oh, just 2003. Back when girls were girls and men were men. Those were the d--well, maybe the book was better. I pray it was.
None of the characters were truly likeable. Kate Reddy's friend Allison (Christina Hendricks) was tolerable most of the time. Digestible, even. Everyone else gave me gas.
As you can guess, Kate tries to have it all, and does none of it as well as it could be done. Man, when was the last time I ran across this theme? You mean to tell me every single story about a working mother is this same boring, predictable, gender role stereotyping, corny bullshit? No wonder I'm holding a fistful of my own hair.
At least this movie had totally different and innovative stuff in it, like misunderstandings involving e-mails sent to the wrong person, grass-is-always-greener moments, judgmental mother-in-laws, snarky fellow mothers, getting-it-right-alright musical montages and freeze-frame fourth wall bashing - plus really clever crap like calling yourself a "giant, un-tweezed eyebrow". Ahahahahaha. Ha.
I almost gave up completely when Kate Reddy was questioned about a spot on her blazer and she responded by tasting it. Tasting it. What ever happened to smelling things?! I have two kids and there is no way I could be convinced to put my mouth on a mysterious stain - I don't care if I even had a pretty darn good hunch it was made entirely of squished pot brownies - I am not just throwing it willy-nilly against my tongue, not even for comedy.
What is there really to say about this film? It just sucked. I mean, it wasn't even so bad it was good. It was just ... there ... doing all the things that irritate you into needing a nap. It was like a forced two-hour coffee date with a guy who thinks fart jokes are hilarious. You just want it to end, and don't really much feel like talking about it later. So, how did it end? I don't fucking care, and it doesn't even matter. I'm just glad it's over.
So there you go. Don't watch this. Do anything else on Earth.