It's no accident that I scheduled my viewing of The Bachelor to come after The Bone Collector (you'da thunk I'd've listened when The Diva, and my husband, told my not-so-narrow behind that Bone would make me queasy, eh? You don' know me vewy well...), since I had a sneaking suspicion I'd need something Light And Airy to get my mind off Bone. Boy, was I ever right. And boy, "Light And Airy" just about nails down The Bachelor. Just about.
THE STORY (WARNING: **spoilers contained below**)
The Bachelor opens with a visage of wild horses running free across a wide-open field, accompanied by the out-of-place narration of O'Donnell as Jimmy Shannon, droning on and about how men are like mustangs on the endless quest for "sweet grass" (courtesy the PG-13 rating), the point being that women were out to lasso them into marriage (he saw the wedding bouquet toss symbolizing a lottery for women). He's surprised, then, when he meets and falls in love with Anne (Zellweger), a woman who he sees at first as an independent like him - until that fateful day, three years into their relationship, that she catches the bouquet. It's not long before she utters the dreaded "F" word: "future"...
For some bizarre reason, Jimmy takes that as a hint that It's Time ("we've reached that point", he mutters, though obviously he hadn't yet reached it); he proposes, badly, to Anne, who turns him down. It becomes imperative for Jimmy to marry, though: unbeknownst to Jimmy and his friends Marco (Lange), O'Dell (Holbrook), and Gluckman (Asner), his grandfather was a multi-millionaire who dies and leaves a video will that has the caveat that the only way Jimmy will inherit his entire estate of $100 million, is to marry before his 30th birthday. Which just happens to be the next day.
THE UPSHOT
Anybody that knows me, "vewy well" or not, knows that I am by no stretch of the imagination, a balls-bustin' man-hater; let me say now, for the record, that I love me some Cats [and one particular Bear. But that's another pellet for another time]. You'll pardon me, then, when I say that if fellas in general are anything like the motley crew that were at the center of this flick, There's No Hope For Y'all. Let me be blunt, men of the world: if you look in the mirror and see Jimmy (or - lets be real blunt - Marco), you really need to get over yourself. C'mon now...mustangs? Dag; y'all have the nads to say women are vain?
It is an ironic bit of karma that the funniest bits in this antithesis of a chick flick (think: lower male extremity) were in the scenes where Jimmy, along with the mostly-silent Priest (Cromwell, wasted here) that Jimmy and crew drag along across town with them, asks some of his past conquests to marry him, desperate to find someone who'll comply with the restrictions grandpop laid down, but with little luck. This procession of women includes chicks that weren't at all happy to see him again, and women who were all too happy to see him but the feeling was not mutual. They all fit only-in-the-movies stereotypes of women who, opposed to how it would likely be in Real Life, have no similarities to any of the other women; it was painfully obvious (though, admittedly, it played well enough) that they were there as symbolic attributes that Jimmy once found attractive enough for the moment, instead of the supposedly well-rounded person he found in Anne. The women were, in turn, Stacey (Cross), a "glad-to-see him, but..."; Zoe (Edwards), a clingy loser; Alana (Carey), a hammy opera diva who shouldn't give up her day job [ahem]; Carolyn The Eternal Student (Silverman), a radical feminist who sees flowers as a "ritualized transaction", a man's way of offering women "symbolic vaginas" (which elicited this contextually funny response from Jimmy: "I'm not interested in your goddam vagina; I just want to marry you!"); Daphne the kickass cop (Esposito), who I'd marry, if only to have her protect me; and Monique (Towne), a chef who's a wee bit too much into lettuce. But tearin' tha roof off the mutha was Brooke Shields in a tour-de-force as Buckley, the severe society dame who agreed to a marriage of convenience with Jimmy (repeating the mantra "$100 million...$100 million..."), but couldn't hack the conditions that O'Dell didn't quite get around to explaining in full to her. I've never liked Shields, but she stole the show; I hated to see her scene end.
I didn't mind The Bachelor up to this point; it was pretty clear where they were heading, and though Zellweger was miscast (there's one actress who I'll be avoiding in the future; there was nothing about her, absolutely nothing, that didn't irritate me in one way or another), I kinda liked Shelton as Anne's sister Natalie, and I loved their horny parents [reminds me of a couple I know, married for years and years and still can't take our hands off each other. uh.] But what turned this movie from potentially a "go see it, if you need some escapist fare in your life" to a "wait for it to come on HBO", was the way all the "brides" you've seen on the commercials, find out about Jimmy's inheritance, the endless, tedious chase scenes that follow, and especially the trite church scene and formulaic Big! Finish! that was, I suppose, destined to happen. Sure, I knew it was a given, but I hoped I'd be surprised. Ah well; at least this flick had nice computer-generated graphics.
I need to be clear here: if it sounds like I didn't like this movie just because it sounds like men being all primal and sh...tuff, that's not it. If guys wanna celebrate their Manhood by beating on their chests like gorillas and deceiving themselves into thinking that God made them the most precious, special thing on Earth, hey, go for it; lord knows there have been way too many chick flicks that did exactly that. But if you're gonna put schlock like that on screen, and not play it as high camp, don't be surprised if you get divacized...
THE "BLACK FACTOR" [ObDisclaimer: We Are Not A Monolith]
I've officially retired The Bammer Blacktionary, but left this one behind:
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Ob:
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Obligatory (rf. "The African-American Bride is obligated to twist her neck and suck her teeth, so as to let the viewer know she is, indeed, the 'African-American Bride' to whom the ending credits refer." Hope This Helps; Have A Nice Day.)
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BAMMER'S BOTTOM LINE
Women get a lot of grief from SOME men who see us as little more than money-grubbing golddiggers, or worse, husband-hungry vixens who can't wait to wrap our fingers around the Family Jewels and pull those babies right out of their sockets. Unfortunately, the one-percenters who actually do fit that description, have messed things up for the rest of those of y'all who are looking for Mr. Right [having already found mine 18 years ago, I can only sympathize]. I think that all y'all Good Women oughta smack these one-percenters upside the head; maybe then, the Good Men who are being [colorfully descriptive prefix, tastefully deleted]-Blocked by them, will finally see the light.
As for the rest, Sorry dudes; the only Mustang I want comes with a 5.0-liter engine and a convertible top.
THE BACHELOR:
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