So write me off as a hopeless philistine. When it comes to movies, my guidance is ‘ If you wouldn’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?’ Or in the case of this – 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 with… I don’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 didn’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 – a successful writer come home to screw up her sister’s wedding – 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 – 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 tree…. Which, by the end of the movie, Jack Black had cut down. It crashed through the pavilion where the wedding wasn’t going to happen. There’s the two funny bits right there. Perhaps the next family event I go home for, I’ll pick a fight with my younger brother. Believe me – that will be a hell of a lot more fun than “Margot at the Wedding”. Maybe even more insightful, too.

It’s currently available at and other retail outlets. You’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 “To Truckee’s Trail” is available here. More about her books is at her website

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