I'll admit that I enjoy a good British romantic comedy, in large part because "romantic comedy" in Britain actually means "a comedy about love" and it's not just an excuse for women to watch melodramatic horseshit that reinforces their greviously unrealistic notions about men, relationships, and true love. On top of that, Hugh Grant is an amusing and charming rogue of an actor and people who don't appreciate a little wit really don't deserve the credence to talk about it.
Though Music And Lyrics features a good taste of Grant, it is not a British romantic comedy. It's crafted by Marc Lawrence, creator of Miss Congeniality and Two Weeks Notice, both movies that I enjoyed for their sarcastic humor. Perhaps it was the mix of Sandra Bullock and Grant previously in Two Weeks Notice, but Music And Lyrics falls completely flat, stripping every bit of joy and humor from the bland and unsubtle plot movements.
Perhaps the part was written for Bullock, a drastically better comedianne, instead of Drew Barrymore, a braindead skank whose acting talent is only exceeded by her ability to create world peace with happy thoughts and my own ability to turn into an animal at a whim. Which is to say she is the bane of my moviewatching tastes (closely matched by her twiggy retard slut associate Cameron Diaz) and everything she touches turns to shit.
So, taking the annoyance of Drew's retarded kewpie doll head out of the equation, what you're left with is still a drastically substandard comedy, as a romance or otherwise. Oh, sure, Hugh Grant fights valiantly to make it work, but it's just not happening. The script is a mess and doomed from the start and the only real humor comes from the video and accompanying music for the Wham-like band Grant's character was in, called Pop.
Barrymore plays a shockingly strange and incompetent supposed businesswoman, who is filling in watering Grant's plants as he tries to write a hit song for a Shakira-like pop idol. She can't even manage to water plants properly, which makes me wonder how she survived long enough to appear in the movie. She's a fucking wreck with emotional baggage so retarded and silly it makes you wonder what the fuck Lawrence was thinking in writing the thing in the first place. She is neither a likable or relatable character, just a ball of neuroses linked back to a bad relationship with an English professor who based an unlikable character on her in his bestselling book. Sorry to tell you, Marc, but she's an unlikable character in this film as well.
Brad Garrett and Kristen Johnston do their best to help provide a comedic supporting cast, but, aside from Grant's ass-shaking and delivery of humorously accurate 80's pop, there's very little anyone can do to keep the movie from dying a slow, painful death.
