Love is in the air, and Bamf has a trio of reviews that with luck will all roll out this week. He’s working hard for you, so you know what to say to that significant other afterwards.
Bamf here rematerializing from the void..
P.S. I Love You is that red velvet tongue of a film moving up the inside of a woman’s thigh. He is gentle, thorough, and never forgets to keep one hand atop her heart. If you reviewed the past holiday film release schedule, most would not peg me on going to see this movie. At that time, nothing else really interested me. You can have your Will Smith vehicle, or another Depp/Burton matchup. I felt like being wooed, and can report that mostly, I was.
Gerard Butler makes his genre switch from 300 like Hugh Jackman did with Kate and Leopold after X-Men. With Hillary Swank showcasing the fine work of American orthodontic progress, the two love sick souls make a endearing albeit short couple. Director Richard LaGravenes knows who his audience is in this film even though they probably don’t know him. How does one distract the audience from lulls between plot movements? Easy enough; just dress Hillary Swank up like an Audrey Hepburn New York socialite and the chatter from the seats will only be about how cute her outfit is, and not about the pace that has lagged. Throw a foreign accent in with washboard abs, and add a dash of fuck ya James Marsters, you gots gold baby. Uh oh, maybe Marsters (Spike!) was more for me…
The story based on Cecilia Ahern’s book is an emotional rocking chair of loss and love. Holly’s husband Gerry dies from a brain tumor, and in his last moments in life compiles ten letters for his love to live with after his demise. Watching this film makes me emphasize, maybe even get a glimpse with what I think a women in the middle of her monthly period feels like. There are lines said in this that when heard made me have a knee jerk “awww that’s so sweet…” reaction—and then a moment later something heart breaking would happen and everything felt so sad, bound, and quieting. The emotional highs and lows that this story plays with is dangerous ground. An audience can only be manipulated so much before losing interest under mental fatigue. I did. The third act has major pacing problems on its own. The movie feels like it could lose twenty minutes, but then I really couldn’t tell you what twenty minutes that is. So to that I can only deduce that after two hours of going back and forth from happy to sad, I was battle weary.
I like the challenge a movie like this has to offer when writing a review. This is not a technical shoot, and even if it was the general audience wouldn’t care. I challenge myself to get into the intended viewers head and see it as they would like a writer determining their imaginary character’s motivation for a story. When you want to play with your female audience, you have to keep in mind that women prefer the feeling’s behind a sensation and not the sensation behind a feeling. They want a door opened, and a hand held, with hot lips to kiss under fresh cold covers**. In all of these observations, the movie delivers.
For P.S. I love You I am dusting off my little used rating system. For new readers, I deal on a 1 to 5 range when it comes to the “chick flick” (I strongly dislike this term*) genre. A year ago The Holiday received a lofty 4 when I debuted the capricious rating scale. On this movie, I give high marks for the ladies.
5 out of 5 vibrators.The rabbit kind, with the thing that does that...thing.
*Inevitable truths. Art hung in American airports will always be horrible, you can judge the popularity of a eating establishment or event by the line at the women’s restroom, and sometimes I have a indelible soft spot for stories created for women.
**P.S.
This guy likes that too.