Director: Nancy Meyers
Year Released: 2003
Rating: 0.5
Insipid, overlong 'mature' comedy that's ripped out of one of those grouchy articles from Redbook or Mademoiselle about why older men prefer younger women, and how older women find that infuriating and demeaning to them (if you ask me, it's just genetics). Diane Keaton is one of the miserable and sexually clamped members of the bourgeoisie (notice the symbolic sweater!) who - when not giggling uncontrollably (like there's a hidden feather beneath the screen tickling her feet) or crying hysterically (you'll wish for a gag) - condemns Jack Nicholson-the-actor (a stand-in for Jack Nicholson-the-individual) as being the embodiment of that 'most contemptible' kind of man, the one that is over 50, has money, power, and wants his women "younger than thirty." The movie compares his 'reprehensible' tastes with those of near-perfect-male Keanu Reeves, who is sensitive, kind, rich (he's a doctor) and pretty much every other positive adjective you can think of - in other words, a rather unlikely actual human being and more along the lines of Dr. Neo, M.D. An endless string of romantic clichés runs through the whole contrived thing, ending in the most clichéd of places, Paris, and with the most clichéd of scenarios - Nicholson changing his ways. You know what else is wrong? Using heart attacks for 'humor' (almost anything can be made funny, but in this case, it isn't).
