He is also impulsive, and after she assaults him with a demand to save her favorite landmark, he hires her on the spot, promises he will not offend her sensibilities, and gives her a big salary. He does this, of course, because he plans to violate all of his promises, and because he wants to sleep with her. He may not know that, but we do.
The first half of the movie is just about perfect, of its kind, and I found myself laughing more than I expected to, and even grinning at a colleague who was one seat over, because we were both appreciating how much better the movie was than it had to be. Then a funny thing happens. The movie sort of loses its way.
This happens at about the time the billionaire, whose name is George Wade, agrees to let the lawyer, whose name is Lucy Kelson, quit and go back to her pro bono work. Her replacement is June Carter (Alicia Witt), a dazzling redhead with great legs and flattery skills. We think we know that she is going to be a rat, and seduce George, and all the usual stuff. But no. She does make moves in that direction, but from instinct, not design. The fact is, she's essentially a sweet and decent person. At one point, I thought I even heard her say she was married, but I must have misheard, as no romantic comedy would ever make the Other Woman technically unavailable.
Anyway, what goes wrong is not Alicia Witt's fault. She plays the role as written. It's just that, by not making her a villain, writer-director Marc Lawrence loses the momentum the formula could have supplied him. The last half of the movie basically involves the key characters being nicer than we expect them to be, more decent than we thought and less cranked-up into emotional overdrive. The result is a certain loss of energy.
I liked the movie, anyway. I like the way the characters talk. I like the way they slip in political punchlines, and how some of the dialogue actually makes points about rich and poor, left and right, male and female, Democratic and Republican. The characters are not entirely governed by their genitals.
Sandra Bullock, who produced the film, knew just what she was doing, and how to do it. Hugh Grant knew just what he was getting into. Some critics will claim they play their "usual roles," but Grant in particular finds a new note, a little more abrupt, a little more daffy, than usual. And they bring to the movie what it must have: two people who we want to see kissing each other, and amusing ways to frustrate us until, of course, they finally do.
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