27 Dresses

Directed by Anne Fletcher

Starring Katherine Heigl, James Marsden

What…a fucking turd. Jaysus.

Ok a little back story. Being in a relationship…with a woman, gentlemen, help me out, you are bound to see more than your fair share of shitty romantic comedies. Being “the one in the know,” I am typically required to pick out movies that I think my girlfriend might like.

Now I’ll admit it. I did like Aline Brosh McKenna’s Devil Wears Prada. However, she was the writer. I’ve learned that a lot of things can happen between the page and the screen. Sometimes a lot of things can happen to the page.

From what I’ve heard, once a writer has a big box office success, producers typically ask, “Hey, what else ya got?” Sometimes, there’s a reason writers haven’t had any success before.

Well, 27 Dresses is a perfect example. Starring the frumpy girl from Knocked Up and Cyclops, Dresses steps through the predictable formula of any forgettable romantic comedy. You’ve got the good girl, who just wants to marry the guy of her dreams, but there’s this obnoxious, cute guy who keep snapping her back to reality until, oh my god, she realizes, she’s in love with Han Solo. The End.

Except, take that formula, throw it in the Cuisinart on Puree, and behold the stinky, gooey mess of a bad blend. ALL, and I’m not kidding, ALL the jokes miss the mark. No comedic scenario is even remotely believable. The characters are plastic and annoying. And the plot is completely predictable and catered for a institution full of developmentally challenged plaintards. I just made up a new word! Mark the date Urbandictionary!

Take, for example, the opening sequence, where poor doormat Heigl hops between two or three different weddings in New York City.  She charters a taxi to drive her back and forth not less than a dozen times, changing dresses in the back seat each time, and no one seems to notice.  Now, once or twice, maybe three times, this would have been funny.  But when the gag runs on for a good 15 minutes, you start to question your sanity.  Even my girlfriend thought it was retarded.

All I’m saying is, if you’re a guy in the same situtation I’m in, there are a lot more tolerable romantic comedies out there for you to drink an entire bottle of wine to while your girlfriend cries her eyes out. If you do have to sit through this one, make sure you’ve got a convient distraction like cellphone Sodoku or a frontal lobotamy. Cause this shit is like crack for chicks.

Coming soon, Made of Honor. God. Damn it.

Here, enjoy a sample of the magic featuring the topless chick from Harold and Kumar and Heartbreak Kid:

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