I walked into the theater expecting “Crazy, Stupid Love” to be
the crazy, stupid romantic-comedy shown on the TV ads. Instead,
what I watched, was a clever, smart, lovingly made movie about
romance, lust and the vagaries of living with your soul mate.
“Soul mate” is the term thirteen-year-old Robbie (Jonah Bobo)
uses to describe the feelings he has for his seventeen-year-old
babysitter Jessica (Analeigh Tipton). The only problem is, this
love is one-sided. Jessica pines for Carl (Steve Carell), Robbie’s
dad, who is understandably oblivious to the teen’s advances since
Emily (Julianne Moore), his wife of 25 years, just told him she
wants a divorce and slept with her co-worker David Lindhagen (Kevin
Bacon).
Got that? Suffice to say, these pronouncements of affection and
disaffection happen in a quick-paced fashion involving embarrassing
situations, logorrhea, and jumping out of a moving Volvo station
wagon.
Of course, it has to be a station wagon. Until Emily told Carl
about her affair, his family lived the typical affluent, suburban,
Southern California, movie lifestyle. And for a man whose life was
filled with happy trips to Little League games, ballet recitals and
Home Depot, it is hard for Carl to change to the role of weekend
father. “You have to remember to fertilize those flowers,” Carl
tells his soon to be ex-wife as he picks up some furniture for his
bachelor apartment, and he begins sneaking back in the dark of
night to fertilize on schedule, rake leaves and aerate the
lawn.
Which makes Carl sound like someone obsessed with what used to
be, but, in a decidedly fresh approach, screenwriter Dan Fogleman
and directors Glenn Ficarra and John Requa create something much
more real.
Carl discovers an upscale bar populated with dozens of
attractive women. “I didn’t even know this place existed,” he tells
the bartender. “My wife slept with David Lindhagen. I’ll have
another vodka and cranberry.” He perches on the same bar stool
night after night, varying his monologue only slightly each
evening. “Cuckold,” he announces loudly to no one in particular.
“Cuckold, cuckold, cuckold!”
This pathetic display is watched from across the room by Jacob
(Ryan Gosling), the womanizing shark of this establishment who uses
a well-oiled series of moves all leading to the final line “let’s
get out of here.” So far, only one woman has resisted his charms.
“You must be a lawyer,” Jacob says to Hannah (Emma Stone) to
explain her reluctance. “Lawyer to be,” she says back, and with a
“Goodnight,” she leaves-alone.
For some reason (read “Plot Device”) Jacob takes a shine to Carl
and offers to help him “move on with your life” through a
reality-show type of makeover involving a new haircut, new wardrobe
and new attitude. “Are you Steve Jobs? Jacob asks. “if you are not
the billionaire founder of Apple computers you have no right to
wear New Balance shoes,” and with a flip of his wrist, he tosses
the offending footwear over the shopping mall railing (while making
some bucks for clever product placements).
“Hey,” Carl protests. “you could have hurt someone.”
“Do you have your credit card?” is all Jacob says in reply, and
the make-over begins.
Clothes do seem to make the man, but Carl needs a little more
work to attract instead of repel dates. “You need to stop talking
about your ex-wife, your kids, and yourself.” Jacob advises. “Don’t
ever talk about yourself. Let the woman talk about herself, then
she thinks she is the center of attention.”
After several disastrous attempts, Carl finally finds himself
with Kate (Marisa Tomei) a “cute and sexy” teacher who lustfully
returns to his apartment bedroom. “I so want to tell my wife about
you,” Carl tells Kate before she literally jumps his bones.
I can’t tell much more without giving away too much. Suffice to
say, if you don’t believe in soul mates, this movie isn’t for you.
But if, like me, you believe in romantic love, savor this movie for
the treasure that it is.
Comments? E-mail gi*********@co*****.net.
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