The only reasons to watch this film are:
(a) you are a Mike Myers scholar, and you need to learn the origin of some of his most oft-repeated character lines in his boffo, bonzo (totally hilarious) Scottish idiom; or
(b) you are a Mike Myers scholar, and you need an exhibit illustrating your to-be-published thesis on how Mike Myers cannot act a romantic lead role (this would be exhibit A, his inability to create even one spark with Tia Carrere in Wayne's World is your Exhibit B).
So I Married . . . has so much promise at the start. Gorgeous, looping, looming, sweeping shots of San Francisco at night, a rollicking soundtrack opener--the jangly, infectious indie pop song the LA's "There She Goes"--and a funny opening line from Myers about a latte the size of a pizza. What a film this might be, the viewer thinks.
But no. Despite a couple rip-roaringly funny character scenes, with Myers playing his own, cartoonishly Scottish, father, some funny bits about a butcher's shop, and very good work by Anthony LaPaglia in a supporting role, the film more or less flops.
The funny sequences are fleeting, and they get buried by other scenes where Myers is supposed to be, in turns, dashing, or lusty, or trapped like a winking, assured Cary Grant in the midst of an unfolding whodunit. And in those other scenes, and there are lots of them, Myers doesn't deliver, he does not sell himself or the story with his acting.
Myers scholars, this film is for you. All others, let an SNL nerd do the Scottish thing in homage and you'll have seen the movie.
(a) you are a Mike Myers scholar, and you need to learn the origin of some of his most oft-repeated character lines in his boffo, bonzo (totally hilarious) Scottish idiom; or
(b) you are a Mike Myers scholar, and you need an exhibit illustrating your to-be-published thesis on how Mike Myers cannot act a romantic lead role (this would be exhibit A, his inability to create even one spark with Tia Carrere in Wayne's World is your Exhibit B).
So I Married . . . has so much promise at the start. Gorgeous, looping, looming, sweeping shots of San Francisco at night, a rollicking soundtrack opener--the jangly, infectious indie pop song the LA's "There She Goes"--and a funny opening line from Myers about a latte the size of a pizza. What a film this might be, the viewer thinks.
But no. Despite a couple rip-roaringly funny character scenes, with Myers playing his own, cartoonishly Scottish, father, some funny bits about a butcher's shop, and very good work by Anthony LaPaglia in a supporting role, the film more or less flops.
The funny sequences are fleeting, and they get buried by other scenes where Myers is supposed to be, in turns, dashing, or lusty, or trapped like a winking, assured Cary Grant in the midst of an unfolding whodunit. And in those other scenes, and there are lots of them, Myers doesn't deliver, he does not sell himself or the story with his acting.
Myers scholars, this film is for you. All others, let an SNL nerd do the Scottish thing in homage and you'll have seen the movie.