This Means War
Opens Friday at International Village
This Means War, the romantic comedy imposter starring Reese Witherspoon, is a puzzle from start to finish. Theres no romance and little comedy in this McG-directed mess: its a bad sign when we look to his Charlies Angels as a masterpiece in comparison.
Two guys are fighting over a girl, that much I took away from the film, shot right here in Vancouver. A pair of hot, virile CIA agents, Tuck (Tom Hardy) and FDR (Chris Pine) fall in love with the same woman, Lauren (Witherspoon), after Laurens friend puts an R-rated profile of her on an online dating site. A few questions right off the bat: why would a hot CIA agent need to find a date online? Lauren apologizes for the sleazy profile, but clearly, he answered the ad, so thats what hes into, right? And whats with the dorky names?
FDR is a smooth lady-killer; Tuck is a sensitive weekend dad, when hes not throwing guys off rooftops. It starts out being about how great Lauren is, but quickly turns into a whose is bigger contest: both men agree to pursue her, though by gentlemans agreement they agree not to sleep with her.
Instead of trusting their own inherent charms and Laurens good sense, each man assembles his own crack team and wastes the CIA L.A. divisions precious resources by tailing, bugging and surveilling Lauren. They notice that she likes Gustav Klimt and shelter dogs, and plan their dates accordingly. Because Lauren was a gymnast in high school, Tuck arranges for a private trapeze session: he hangs upside down and tells her when to jump, circus-style. (Last time I checked, they didnt teach trapeze in high school. Or in CIA training.)
There is an irrelevant side plot about a German baddie, which really only serves to quench the directors appetite for quick edits and unengaging action sequences.
Laurens so conflicted. She calls her friend Trish (Chelsea Handler, struggling within the confines of a PG-13 movie) routinely to ask for advice. But Trish is just in it because she needs a reason to fill her kids sippy cups with vodka and escape from her chunk of a husband for an hour or two. Dont choose the better guy; choose the guy wholl make you the better girl, she says sagely, in what is probably the films longest line.
So what happens beyond the happily-ever-after, when the spy team isnt there to anticipate Laurens every move or plant pithy pickup lines in Mr. Rights earpiece? Shes left with a stud whos a real dud.
Witherspoon recently had to choose between Mr. Reliable and Mr. Playful in How Do You Know. But at least Owen Wilson and Paul Rudd sported shades of grey, whereas Tuck and FDR dont change one iota, unless you count FDRs inexplicable new appetite for Leo and Kate in Titanic.
More puzzling plot points: Angela Bassett has a role as the boys crusty CIA boss, who grounds them (shades of The Other Guys), and then completely disappears halfway through the movie. The other female role belongs to Tucks estranged wife, who bore a child by him but apparently was dim enough to believe he was a travel agent for all those years, cuts, bruises, and bullet-wounds notwithstanding.
At first I thought they were brothers, but one of them is English. They both talk about providing great-grandchildren for Nana, so, brothers-in-law? (A sexual revelation late in the film kills that theory.) Either way, they are the best of friends, and would take a bullet for each other.
Thats what were told, anyway. All three characters are so hell-bent on looking chic in wardrobe (slim-fit shirts, skin-tight minis) that they forget to interact with one another. There isnt a trace of romance nor bromance to be found anywhere. And if you dont believe the buddy bond, you cant buy the movie.
