So write me off as a hopeless philistine. When it comes to movies, my guidance is â€˜ If you wouldnâ€™t want to spend fifteen minutes with these people in a crowded elevator, then why the heck do you want to spend two hours in a theater watching them?â€™ Or in the case of this â€“ an hour and a half in the study watching them on my daughters ginormous color TV. A couple of glasses of Chablis helped enormously as far as the DVD went; in real life, it would have taken a heck of a lot more.
So this is supposed to be insightful and hilariously insightful social comedy. You are, god help us, supposed to come away withâ€¦ I donâ€™t know, something after having endured the experience of this dysfunctional family reunion. Maybe a bit of the odd insight, understanding, some grudging shreds of affection for these people; instead it was more like looking through a knothole at a non-stop airing of familial dirty laundry. I didnâ€™t mind the hand-held camera being so shaky, but damn was the resulting picture dim and grimy-looking. I think we were twenty minutes into it before there was sufficient light to make out that teenaged kid accompanying Margot â€“ a successful writer come home to screw up her sisterâ€™s wedding â€“ was her son. Not a daughter, as first appeared. Well, when all you can see is a chubby-faced blob with long hair, what else are we supposed to think?
Oh, wait â€“ that was Jack Black. The chubby-faced blob, I mean. And yes, Nichole Kidman can play a brittle, manipulative and self involved writer-bitch. I did ask my daughter to please intervene, if I should ever behave that badly in public, to which she promised that a concrete-block wrapped in a current issue of Martha Steward Living would so be coming my way.
It was mildly amusing, the fire department coming to rescue Margot from the branches of the tall treeâ€¦. Which, by the end of the movie, Jack Black had cut down. It crashed through the pavilion where the wedding wasnâ€™t going to happen. Thereâ€™s the two funny bits right there. Perhaps the next family event I go home for, Iâ€™ll pick a fight with my younger brother. Believe me – that will be a hell of a lot more fun than â€œMargot at the Weddingâ€. Maybe even more insightful, too.
Itâ€™s currently available at Amazon.com and other retail outlets. Youâ€™ve been warned.
Sgt. Mom is a free-lance writer and member of the Independent Authors Guild who lives in San Antonio and blogs at The Daily Brief. Her current book â€œTo Truckeeâ€™s Trailâ€ is available here. More about her books is at her website www.celiahayes.com