Two Weeks Notice

The snow was a bit of a bust, in white Christmas terms. It stayed warm and rainy much longer than predicted by the frenzied weathermen, and we won’t reach that lower limit of 6 inches they started out predicting for the Massachusetts coast. I’ve been spending my day off writing that J/P fic I didn’t finish in time for TomKat 2002, with a short break to brave the rain and be disappointed by Two Weeks Notice.

As a comedy, it was hilarious. The script was great, Hugh Grant was his usual shallow yet lovable self, and Sandra Bullock was good, especially with her liberal parents. Veronica embarrassed me by laughing out loud more than once.

As a romance, however, it was a flop. The lead couple had no chemistry together - I’m not sure I could say what chemistry is, but when it’s not there it’s as plain as day. The script didn’t help on that account, either - the first hint of a romantic scene, a hug in the men’s bathroom, was undermined by a slapstick scene of one character getting her hair stuck on the other’s belt buckle. The most romantic thing the shallow millionaire lead did for his true love was carry her through traffic to a Winnebagos’s loo. Potty humor doesn’t do it for me.

Although the leads never clicked, the movie was interesting enough until when the plot finally came around to the standard themes of romantic comedy - the misunderstanding involving a half-naked woman rival, the catfight, the public confession of Twue Love, and the interminable final kiss - the plot was not enough to pull it off.

Maybe someone will remake it in a few years, with fewer bathroom scenes and more chemistry.

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