“How would you feel about me taking pictures of your feet?”: Morning Glory

Mediocre romcoms.

I’ve been watching a lot of those lately.  That’s almost all they make, really.  I like to think that because I love great romantic comedies so much, I’ve come to be a connoisseur.  I must wade through all the muck and mediocrity to find the truly inspiring ones.

Morning Glory with Rachel McAdams.

Unfortunately this one falls under the “Just Barely Better Than Mediocre” list.

At least it had some original elements.  How many movies have you seen about an executive producer of a morning TV show?  That’s new and different.  Harrison Ford played a pompous asshole (but not in an awesomely sexy Han Solo kind of way; just in a jerky kind of way) and was not the main character.  That was fun.  Then again, any movie that has Harrison Ford and Diane Keaton and DOESN’T use them as main characters is wasting a lot of awesomeness.

It was a lot less of a rom, and more of a com than I had expected.  The main love story was really between McAdams’ character and her job.  The hot guy was very much secondary, and I never really liked him much.  I honestly don’t really remember what happens to him in the end.  It was barely even a chick flick.

When the film was over, all of the story lines had been resolved, but it seemed like there was so much more they could have shown us.  I wanted MORE.  So much more.  I like the quickness and efficiency with which they introduced characters and used silly, clichéd montages; it saved them a lot of time, but they could have used that time to show me what else happened once the main story got resolved.  There was almost no resolution time (or dénouement, in literature) for me to wrap the movie up in my head.  It went from climax to credits.  I’m no wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kinda gal.  If I invested that much time and energy into you, I want to cuddle afterwards, okay?  I thought this little movie had a lot of wasted potential.  It coulda’ been a contenda’!

It was fun.  It was cute.  It was better than stupid Letters to Juliet, I know that much.

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