The Wedding Planner

Weakly plotted, poorly acted, badly written, and laden with the kind of cute plot contrivances that wouldn’t pass muster on the Muppets, “The Wedding Planner” is about as limp as a major Hollywood production can get and still be in focus. I suppose one can attribute its brief number-one showing at the box office to a lack of competition, or star Jennifer Lopez’s concurrently best-selling album, or the appeal the movie holds for prepubescent girls, because you sure can’t attribute it to the quality of the work. Whatever happened to Jennifer Lopez? She was so good, strong and sexy in “Out of Sight.” She then took the misguided step of starring in the oppressive “The Cell,” and now she is stuck in this mush-mouthed attempt at romantic comedy. Lopez is an attractive woman, but her looks are no substitute for decent writing and directing. “The Wedding Planner” sets her career back several steps by casting her as an emotionally hamstrung simp whose repetitious declarations of independence are undercut by a weepy response to anything that smacks of emotion. Why Lopez allowed them to put her up there with a game smile and a kewpie doll voice I’ll never know.

At one point this supposedly independent woman is reduced to crawling around in the dirt to avoid a seeing a former lover. Yeah, that should energize the women’s movement. Lopez plays Mary Fiore, a wedding planner (and maybe I am naive, but I had no idea that planning weddings was such a major industry) in San Francisco, and the central premise of the picture is that Mary is good at making everyone’s dreams come true except--sob--her own. Yeah, right. Just as she has seemingly given up on romance forever, she meets Steve (McConaughey), a pediatrician, in a fashion that is too excruciating to even qualify as “meeting cute.” Nevertheless, sparks fly, they almost kiss, and romance is in the air. Then Mary discovers that Steve is engaged to Fran (Wilson-Sampras), a society girl whose wedding Mary has just agreed to plan. Wow. Complications ensue, because Mary is really drawn to Steve, they seem to have a real connection, and Steve begins to wonder whether Fran is the right gal for him after all. Adding to the muddle is a numbskull subplot about Mary’s father (who appears to be mentally challenged, in addition to having an indeterminate accent--or a speech impediment) trying to arrange a marriage between Mary and Massimo (Chambers), a young Italian immigrant who barely speaks English.

McConaughey hangs about, reciting his lines and trying to project charm, but mostly looking embarrassed, and I can’t say that I blame him. (He will need to do some career damage control after this fiasco.) Wilson-Sampras (yes, Pete’s wife) has a pleasant enough screen presence and manages to make Fran out to be something more than the prototypical dumb blond babe. I suppose the filmmakers would claim that they are trying to recreate the magic of the screwball comedies of the thirties and forties, but they lack the conviction to pull it off (not that the material inspires any). They don’t have the guts to go for real farce, and they are too lazy to try to create a real romance. Hence, we have insipid hash. While watching “The Wedding Planner,” I waited in vain for a single inspired line, original image, or genuine emotion. In the end, I confess, I walked out before what was no doubt a hilarious and romantic denouement. Maybe you will have the energy--or lack thereof--to sit through the entire movie and see who winds up with whom. I didn’t. (2/16/2001)