We were looking for something, anything, to see. Nothing appealed to one or the other of us for some reason. Finally I said, “Okay, we can see Wedding Crashers.” A movie Darin had wanted to see for some time, but I had been less than thrilled about.
“It’s at the Pruneyard. Where should we go for dinner?”
“The brewery?” The light dawned on me. “And I can drink beer, which will help me find the movie funny!”
Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Wedding Crashers is the story of John and Jeremy (Owen Wilson, Vince Vaughn), two divorce mediators (a great opening scene…and then their job is practically never mentioned again) who like to crash weddings so that they can meet chicks. We see a montage of them hitting every type of wedding (Jewish, Irish, Japanese) with appropriately stupid pseudonyms.
Finally they hit the motherlode: the wedding of the daughter of the Secretary of the Treasury, for some unknown reason played by Christopher Walken because it could have been played by any actor of the right age. Seriously, they did not need Walken for this role, but at least he’s working. John and Jeremy end up involved with the two other daughters of the Secretary. John’s belle (can’t remember her name or the actress’s name) is affianced to a total asshole, which makes us wonder after a while if she’s a complete moron for staying with him, and Jeremy’s belle turns out to be a psychotic stalker. Oh yes, and the Secretary’s son is a “homo” artist who develops a thing for Jeremy.
There is some funny stuff in the movie, particularly in the first half. But the gratuitous gay-bashing (as Darin put it, it felt like it came out of a movie out of the Fifties or something) was annoying, as was (as usual) the script that left the best ideas undeveloped and spent way, way too much time on stupid stuff. One element that is just left lying there is that John and Jeremy clearly like going to weddings, and not just ’cause they get laid. In the opening montage, we see that they have a blast at every single wedding they go to…but that element is never explored, never a factor. Instead, we get the foul-mouthed granny (I’m telling you: this movie is jam-packed with kneebusters from 1960). And I found John, our ostensible hero, rather annoying, because he never listens to what his friend is telling him, too busy focusing on his own romantic problems. One should never find Vince Vaughn preferable to Owen Wilson, but that’s what happened here.
Definitely wait for cable.
I cannot believe I’m actually waiting until this weekend, when we get The 40-year-old Virgin in theaters and at last we have something to go see.
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I keep forgetting about the side effect of alcohol on me, which is, namely: that I sleep poorly, if at all. And I got up at 6 to go running with Rob.
“You spent five bucks on beer so you could spend twelve bucks on a stupid movie?” he asked.
It’s only ten per person these days, Rob. Clearly a bargain.
Ow. My poor dehydrated head.
Thanks, Diane. You said exactly what I thought about Wedding Crashers (I think I drove my poor bf crazy with my post-movie breakdown).Wilson’s love interest (Rachel McAdams, cause laws, I surely can’t remember the CHARACTER’S name) was such a total piece of silent vapidity for staying with her jackhole boyfriend, why were we, the audience, supposed to view her as a great catch?
Still laughed pretty hard at Vince Vaughan. Maybe because he’s funny when he’s fat and unkempt? I don’t know.
Can’t wait to hear your take on The 40-year Old Virgin.
Diane, what you say is literally true of the movie. But you miss the elation of the movie (as distinct from that of the characters), and, frankly, if you couldn’t remember Rachel McAdams’s name, you weren’t really watching. This is a Sixties love story updated mutatis mutandem. The movie triumphed over its own nonsense (the grandmother, the gay brother, Jane Seymour) and also demonstrated that buddies don’t have to be equally tall. A concept that will rip America apart more brutally than gay marriage!
Darin remembered Rachel McAdams’ name but he couldn’t remember her character’s name either, so it wasn’t just me. (Despite seeing her in a couple of movies, I never remember her name or recognize her — she isn’t an impressive presence.)
Jane Seymour. I’d totally forgotten that subplot. Oy.