May 3, 2009
RUTHERFORD ON FILM: 'GHOSTS OF GIRLFRIENDS PAST'
Charleston’s Garner, McConaughey Spark Sarcastic Chemistry
By Tony Rutherford
Huntingtonnews.net Entertainment Editor
Huntington, WV (HNN) - There’s no Tiny Tim or Mr. Crachit, but a sizzling, cynical chemistry from Matthew McConaughey and Charleston’s own Jennifer Garner inject pleasing tweaks on oft worn clichés.
Doing what romantic comedy idol McC does best, the cocky, jerk fashion photographer, Connor Mead, breaks hearts and spits overtures for casual sex. Paired ever so occasionally and gradual reuniting with childhood sweetheart, Jenny Perotti, they exchange hostile body language and verbal barbs at the wedding rehearsal for Paul ‘s (Connor’s younger brother) nuptials to Sandra (Lacey Chabert)
Mark (“Mean Girls,” “Freaky Friday”) Waters has dissected “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past” to overflowing with heavy thoughts on love, lust, bad guy, nice guy, and other relationship essentials. Scoring on the risky nature of love (hate, life, work and everything else), the director essentially has condensed ‘Mars’ and ‘Venus’ interpersonal lessons into the confines of Friday night into Saturday morning.
Let’s face it --- women love jerks, they are fix ‘em up boy projects that if successful boosts her own self esteem. Ultimately, her quest has greater dysfunctions than the one or two she envisions helping him overcome. Tanned, handsome, strutting McConaughey has an opportunistic profession as a celebrity and fashion photographer, who woos, beds, and leaves whether she be a model, musician, rising star or friend.
As an exaggerated ‘bad boy,’ the “We Are Marshall” lead sportingly blows off in a few minutes --- three, or is it four, by conference call --- a bevy of gorgeous goddesses which most men would sell their soul for just one.
Having been raised by an uncle (Michael Douglas) in a Playboy bachelor Boston mansion, the concrete hearted shutter bug has been taught an early gender politics rule --- the power of a relationship rests on he/she who cares least. Thus, the secret to picking up a woman results from the man’s self-belittling nature which eventually convinces her to comfortably let her hair (err, guard) down potentially leading to feeling revelations.
As outlined in the film’s premise, Connor’s determined to bust up his younger brother’s lifetime of bliss, which he knows will evolve into heartaches. When mocking the notions of love, romance, and marriage (“what’s wrong with casual sex?”), the irreverent and rude photo taker babbles and shouts insults until one pricks a tender spot of Sandy’s heart.
You literally have to grant these “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past” a chance to entertain, despite certain inevitabilities. While Garner gives herself permission to sling swords back and forth from the onset, other gals in the cast must first get stung before he’s genuine jerk fodder. The girls from his past --- particularly the 16-year-old metal brace mouthed Allison ( Emma Stone) --- have ordinary quirks and looks which blend and banter well in his collection of ladies left.
A “Singing in the Rain” moment hilariously places Douglas and McConaughey as ghost mentor and womanizing guest ducking more than that from which an umbrella protects. Another cinematic subtlety : Douglas reunites with award winning Anne Archer, who played his tormented wife in “Fatal Attraction.” Does that explain the repeated ‘riskiness” lessons about falling in love and the even worse agony of facing the regrets of a love lost through inaction or interference from bystanders?
Unworthy of utterly untrue comparisons to “Gigli,” the pivotal laugh or not situations hinge on your own abilities to empathize, imagine or rekindle emotions from bobbled, shot yourself in the foot one on one gender encounters of the past, present or predictable future.
You must find heavenly bemusement during the fast paced, screwball opening that peaks after an unwillingly lingerie clad musician has an apple shot from her head, the suave lens master’s homage to the not politically correct text/email split, and the musician’s competitive urge to still change him and fare better.
Not so notable, though, the let down following the sun’s rise on Saturday morning. It’s like writer/director/stars determined here come the required feel good portion, so we can quit reaching for any attempt to offer a slightly off center spin.
1/2 out of
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RUTHERFORD ON FILM: 'GHOSTS OF GIRLFRIENDS PAST'
Charleston’s Garner, McConaughey Spark Sarcastic Chemistry
By Tony Rutherford
Huntingtonnews.net Entertainment Editor
Huntington, WV (HNN) - There’s no Tiny Tim or Mr. Crachit, but a sizzling, cynical chemistry from Matthew McConaughey and Charleston’s own Jennifer Garner inject pleasing tweaks on oft worn clichés.
Doing what romantic comedy idol McC does best, the cocky, jerk fashion photographer, Connor Mead, breaks hearts and spits overtures for casual sex. Paired ever so occasionally and gradual reuniting with childhood sweetheart, Jenny Perotti, they exchange hostile body language and verbal barbs at the wedding rehearsal for Paul ‘s (Connor’s younger brother) nuptials to Sandra (Lacey Chabert)
Mark (“Mean Girls,” “Freaky Friday”) Waters has dissected “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past” to overflowing with heavy thoughts on love, lust, bad guy, nice guy, and other relationship essentials. Scoring on the risky nature of love (hate, life, work and everything else), the director essentially has condensed ‘Mars’ and ‘Venus’ interpersonal lessons into the confines of Friday night into Saturday morning.
Let’s face it --- women love jerks, they are fix ‘em up boy projects that if successful boosts her own self esteem. Ultimately, her quest has greater dysfunctions than the one or two she envisions helping him overcome. Tanned, handsome, strutting McConaughey has an opportunistic profession as a celebrity and fashion photographer, who woos, beds, and leaves whether she be a model, musician, rising star or friend.
As an exaggerated ‘bad boy,’ the “We Are Marshall” lead sportingly blows off in a few minutes --- three, or is it four, by conference call --- a bevy of gorgeous goddesses which most men would sell their soul for just one.
Having been raised by an uncle (Michael Douglas) in a Playboy bachelor Boston mansion, the concrete hearted shutter bug has been taught an early gender politics rule --- the power of a relationship rests on he/she who cares least. Thus, the secret to picking up a woman results from the man’s self-belittling nature which eventually convinces her to comfortably let her hair (err, guard) down potentially leading to feeling revelations.
As outlined in the film’s premise, Connor’s determined to bust up his younger brother’s lifetime of bliss, which he knows will evolve into heartaches. When mocking the notions of love, romance, and marriage (“what’s wrong with casual sex?”), the irreverent and rude photo taker babbles and shouts insults until one pricks a tender spot of Sandy’s heart.
You literally have to grant these “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past” a chance to entertain, despite certain inevitabilities. While Garner gives herself permission to sling swords back and forth from the onset, other gals in the cast must first get stung before he’s genuine jerk fodder. The girls from his past --- particularly the 16-year-old metal brace mouthed Allison ( Emma Stone) --- have ordinary quirks and looks which blend and banter well in his collection of ladies left.
A “Singing in the Rain” moment hilariously places Douglas and McConaughey as ghost mentor and womanizing guest ducking more than that from which an umbrella protects. Another cinematic subtlety : Douglas reunites with award winning Anne Archer, who played his tormented wife in “Fatal Attraction.” Does that explain the repeated ‘riskiness” lessons about falling in love and the even worse agony of facing the regrets of a love lost through inaction or interference from bystanders?
Unworthy of utterly untrue comparisons to “Gigli,” the pivotal laugh or not situations hinge on your own abilities to empathize, imagine or rekindle emotions from bobbled, shot yourself in the foot one on one gender encounters of the past, present or predictable future.
You must find heavenly bemusement during the fast paced, screwball opening that peaks after an unwillingly lingerie clad musician has an apple shot from her head, the suave lens master’s homage to the not politically correct text/email split, and the musician’s competitive urge to still change him and fare better.
Not so notable, though, the let down following the sun’s rise on Saturday morning. It’s like writer/director/stars determined here come the required feel good portion, so we can quit reaching for any attempt to offer a slightly off center spin.
1/2 out of
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