Ryan Murphy jumps off the diving board of Glee
fame and belly flops into the pool of motion picture promise, to scrape
together a screenplay. The ingredients of the man of the hour is priceless, deemed for success with the likes of Javier
Bardem, Julia Roberts and that cardboard cut out known as James Franco and
charged me €9 in good conscious to sit for over two hours in front of a big
screen. All the time I worried that Roberts massive “I can hold a whole wagon
wheel in my mouth without crushing it” face could cause me some kind of untold
damage. But it would probably be worth the risk right?
Most painful chick flicks have the ripped off
bandage appeal that rushes us through the formalities of realising that our
brains are rotting in our skulls- but not this little number.
Meet Liz Gilbert (Roberts), a married woman who
realises one night that her marriage is in fact utter toilet water in
consistency. Her husband is a fickle, career drifting post pubescent love sick
puppy who stares at her longingly from across the pillows in the marital bed.
After a painful divorce scene she decides to organise an around the world trip
in order to “find herself”.
First though, Murphy, not happy with the idea of
clichéd mid life crisis pre menopausal women, decides to subject the world to
the “acting” of the human being formally known as James Franco. I have watched
paint dry with more emotion, I’ve watched “reality television” segments with
more convictions, hell I think Robert Pattinson might have a career after all
this Vampire seduction now that I have endured Franco on screen.
The chemistry between himself and Roberts is
nil. Probably due to the fact that the script is terrible and never allows for
the audience to see what the characters truly meant to each other. The book-
which, yes I did read was far more substantial in conviction. The idea that a
woman would need to escape from herself is far more real to me as I read
through the chapters rather than watching Roberts sobbing on the floor while
her toy boy boyfriend lies on the bed. There was no concrete reason given on
screen for the start or fizzle out of their relationship.
The most important thing to consider while
watching this film is that Gilbert’s is told at the very beginning that she
will lose all her money during the year (she gives her whinging husband the
majority of her assets- probably because the dialogue was terrible and the
camera man was nodding off). Yet here she is travelling around the world- never
wearing the same outfit twice and never mentioning the fact that she is
supposed to be now destitute.
I am not cynical- a lot of the time. But as I
sat through this film I waited for the amazing moment Oprah promised me would
come. The ravings about this book come “cinematic experience” made Britney
Spears Crossroads the Schindler’s List of the last decade.
Bardem, an Oscar winning actor- hottie from
Spain, the man who knocked up Cruz, my future second or third husband... he
sucked too. The only time I didn’t mind his awkward persona on the screen was
when he was teary eyed in saying goodbye to his son as he bade off for college.
I can only assume the tears were real as the actor realised as soon as his
“son” leaves he would again have to trash out another love scene with Roberts.
And that’s another thing; when a man like Bardem
takes the book you are reading out of your hand and tells you “it is time” and
nods in the bedroom direction with those sex steep eyes you run. You run hard,
you run fast and you let the camera’s follow you so the audience at least have
the chance of seeing Javier topless. This film did nothing to save itself.
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