This film is a calculated attempt to cash in the success of Sex in the City and Four Weddings and a Funeral. In fact, if they'd called it Sex at a Funeral, they might have done better at the box office.
But the film falls between two stools and can't get up. The characters spout improbably bright dialog, but never act in any way remotely recognizable as human. One arbitrary, senseless action follows another to advance what passes for a plot, and one soon tires of the falsity of the whole enterprise.
Andie MacDowell gets points for acting her little heart out, but the performing honors are stolen by Imelda Staunton, as of all things, a police detective (don't they have a height requirement over there?). Ms. Staunton seems unable to make a false move. Would that we could say the same about the writer-director.
If Notting Hill annoyed you as being bogus, stay away from this one. Phonus bolognus on the half-shell.
But the film falls between two stools and can't get up. The characters spout improbably bright dialog, but never act in any way remotely recognizable as human. One arbitrary, senseless action follows another to advance what passes for a plot, and one soon tires of the falsity of the whole enterprise.
Andie MacDowell gets points for acting her little heart out, but the performing honors are stolen by Imelda Staunton, as of all things, a police detective (don't they have a height requirement over there?). Ms. Staunton seems unable to make a false move. Would that we could say the same about the writer-director.
If Notting Hill annoyed you as being bogus, stay away from this one. Phonus bolognus on the half-shell.