Apparently, casting directors have taken to throwing darts at a mass of random names, because that’s the only explanation I can think of for that supposed triple-bill (I say “supposed” because Hurley gets about 5 minutes of total screen-time). This reads more like generations-removed fanfiction, pairing two talk show hosts in a romantic story, and if it weren’t for the fact that Kathie Lee also wrote this, I would be asking what she’s even doing here. Admittedly, I’m still asking that, after having seen the bloody thing, but you get my point.
Kathie Lee hasn’t written a feature film before. Not that I really need to point that out; sitting through this for any length of time, from any random moment, shows that readily enough. The way it delves into later-life romance reads as quite desperate a lot of the time, both in the mentality of the characters and the extent the dialogue goes to to enforce it. It’s a holiday rom-com set in Scotland where a large chunk of the humour comes out of the cultural divide, which would be fine if it felt like the person writing these lines had even seen Scotland before. It’s quite a trick to make Craig Ferguson seem this out-of-touch with his own heritage.
And in-between the haggis jokes, the sheep-shagging jokes, and a stupid multiple personality gag to do with Ferguson’s character’s inn that might as well be a Hotel Hell outtake, there’s pretences made about this as a film about films. Ostensibly, Kathie Lee is on a round-the-world trip with her husband(‘s ashes in a chocolate box… because Forrest Gump… even though it’d make more sense if it was because they were really into Sid Beaverman), going to all the different countries from their favourite movies. Not that this means a damn thing for the larger narrative, save for what can only be described as a black-and-white montage that is a placeholder for characters having sex which, after the “full of spunk” conversation, feels unnecessarily prudish. It mainly results in Kathie Lee just saying that certain moments and things remind her of certain movies, in what I’m sure is what meta humour looks like to people who absolutely despise it. And even as someone who likes that style, I’m quite taken aback at how lazy it is here.
I probably wouldn’t get so hung-up on that kind of minor detail (although the fact that it is a minor detail isn’t helping my mental state) if the main romance was any good… which it isn’t. Not even remotely. The flat acting from Kathie Lee and the wasted talent of Craig Ferguson won’t allow it. You know those scenes in sitcoms where a character who’s trying to become an actor is rehearsing their lines at home, but the joke is that they aren’t good at acting? For a moment in this, I genuinely thought Kathie Lee was having one of those moments, but no; she is just that bad. And when combined with the stale dialogue, the mutated sense of humour, the malformed love triangle where Elizabeth Hurley didn’t even need to be in this thing, the levels of self-aggrandisement Kathie Lee sees fit to put the audience through (I am now more familiar with her legs than I am with the walls of my own house), and pacing that is basically non-existent, it results in nothing that could keep audiences invested or even vaguely conscious.
Chances are I’m not breaking any new ground with that assessment, as everything from the casting to the lackadaisical title is practically begging people not to pay attention to it, but the fact remains: This is quite horrific to sit through. As much as I found myself somewhat bemused by some of the jokes in here, that was more out of disbelief that someone actually thought these bits were worth putting on the big screen. Maybe, if I was having a really damn good day, I could potentially recommend this as a bad movie night selection… but seeing as I had to walk through the rain to see this thing, the day I’m writing this review is not that day. It’s a vanity project that can’t even reach the levels of fascinatingly awful as something like Sextette or By The Sea or even the films of John Derek, settling for being boring at best.
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