I never thought that I would one day be springing to the defense of
a movie like this, but then again, I never dreamed I'd pick up a 32
point bridge hand, or that I would be be stealing shipments of
cumquats to impress my elderly Uncle Stanley's 19-year-old mail order
Thai bride, so there you are. Life sometimes deals the
unexpected hand, and it's our responsibility to bid the tricky grand
slam or to bring the ben-wa balls and plenty of lubricant to Uncle
Stanley's house when he is spending a few days at the Mayo clinic.
GLC is, to my knowledge, the only major 2007 film to receive NO
positive reviews from the cream of the crop at Rotten Tomatoes.
Because of the universal critical contempt, I assumed it was a
complete crap-fest on the level of Dorm Daze, so I
avoided it when it came to the theaters. Of course, the copious nudity
eventually made
it a must-watch for the Fun House, and I was surprised to see
that the film is not that bad. In essence it is a 70s British sex
farce re-tooled into a contemporary American movie. I guess we should
not be surprised that films of that nature are widely deprecated by
critics and film snobs, since Tuna has covered this subject
extensively in his essays on the first two "Confessions..." films.
The role which would have gone to Robin Askwith in the seventies,
the silly dentist of only moderate
charm who has inexplicable success with the ladies, goes this time to
Dane Cook. The explanation for his bewildering gift as a Casanova is that a
legend has sprung up around him. No, not what you're thinking. The
legend is that any woman who has sex with Chuck will find her perfect
dream-man immediately afterward. Women therefore line up at the foot
of his bed. Chuck is not happy with the situation. His friend wants to
know, "What's wrong with
it?" Well, it turns out that the legend is true (long story, not
worth detailing), which means he
can never be loved. As soon as he makes love to a woman, she's off to
the altar with the next guy, no matter how much Chuck likes her. And
Chuck likes Jessica Alba a lot.
His dilemma is therefore, that if he sleeps with his true love, he
assures that she will fall in love with the next guy she meets. But if
he can't show any interest in her, he's going to lose her anyway. The
comedy, such as it is, involves various gimmicky attempts to resolve
the dilemma. (Example. He asks his friend, a plastic surgeon, if he
can get a completely new face after making love to Alba, so he can
also be the next guy after himself.)
OK, it's not a great movie. Let's not kid ourselves. But a zero
percent at Rotten Tomatoes? It's just not that bad. I laughed out loud
two or three times, and I made it through the disk without resorting
to the fast-forward button. Hell, that alone beats at least half of
the films I watch each week. If this flick came on cable late in the
evening, and you had some chill time coming, I don't think you would
be rushing for the remote. Afterwards, you might think, "Well, that
was nothing special," but I think you'd probably last it out.
It's a helluva lot funnier than the incredibly lame and tedious Mr.
Woodcock, which scored 27% from the same "cream of the crop."
The pathetically low critical appraisal probably tells you less
about the film than about how far the average critic is from the
public's sensibilities. The film scores a C+ at Yahoo (with more than
5000 votes) and grossed nearly $30 million. Obviously some people
liked it, and while I didn't really like it, I didn't mind it, either.
