Dear Gary Marshall,
I'm glad that its' been a few days since I saw your film, and I'm equally glad that I didn't watch this on the day for which is was named. First a question, Mr. Marshall.
Why would you choose to call in all of your favors for this film that I've heard called "fluffy?" Julia, Ashton, Jennifer, Patrick, George,
McSteamy, Topher, Latifah, BlueEyes, both Taylors (who sadly ended their relationship about a week too early to match the film release), Anne, Jamie, the Jessicas? Wow. Impressive cast list. But for this? ...for these empty roles?
PS. It's amiable for you to use your entire family in your films, but I have to say that it's just not as endearing for those of us in the fold-down, popcorn-pelted seats. Penny is the only real acting talent in the family. Your daughter's lines make even those of legends like Julie Andrews and Shirley MacLaine feel laughable. Wooden. Truth.
A complaint = Lodged today. 2.15.10. I went expecting a light and friendly Gary Marshallesque chickflick/ romcom. I left so saddened by the unexpected realizm, the darkness of deception, and the expectation that lust will always win over in a selfish humanity. Is there no love? No hope for selfless affection, no joy in pleasant pink days of gifts and candy and flowers? I walked into a Starbucks on Valentines Day and all of the women were wearing red. There must be hope.
A compliment = I've had time to review, to ask, to ponder your reasonings. You are obviously a family man, and I am going to venture a guess that this film was made as a personal commentary - almost your version of a documentary - to show your perspectives on love and marriage to your family. To the oldest in the family =true love stays with it despite disappointment and allows the years of faithfulness and acceptance of quirks to cover the momentary afflictions and poor choices. To the young and ready to marry = don't be stupid, and make sure you marry your best friend. To youth - sex before commitment is just sex, not love, and frivolous sex destroys people. Your other possible messages, I'm afraid, faded beneath a star-studded quilt of wish-it-was-funny jokes about phone sex and pent-up frustrations. So, Mr. Marshall, perhaps it's not too late to call in that one last favor and make a film that's funny and fun without the stifling edge of painful relational disappointment.
Sincerely,
me.
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