OVER HER DEAD BODY
Itís very tempting to make some
cheesy comment about only seeing this movie over
my/your/her/somebodyís dead body and then moving on, but thatís too
easy. This is a formula movie all the way. Two people meet for
some odd reason. One person does something bad to get the other
person to like them. It works. The other person finds about the
bad thing and calls it off. The first person has to explain that it
wasnít really so bad ... etc.
All of this unfolds within the
context of a story about a woman who dies unceremoniously at her own
wedding and then comes back to haunt the psychic who meets her
bereaved fiancť. Yes, really. Throw in an ambiguously
gay/unambiguously clumsy best friend, Stephen Root as historyís most
disinterested angel, a meddling ditzy sister, a flatulent fart joke
scene, a talking parrot medium (yes, really), and multiple
additional jokes at the expense of an overweight golden Labrador and
you have solid comedy bronze.
Itís not that there arenít a few
amusing moments, and Paul Rudd is quite appealing as the almost
widower, but the story feels driven only by the imperative of the
formula and not by anything resembling believability in the
characters. For example, we have to start out by believing that
Paul Rudd misses Eva Longoria Parker enough to spend a year mourning
her loss. But from what very little we see of her while alive,
along with what more we see of her while dead, matched against what
we see of him, itís virtually impossible to believe they would ever
have been together as a couple in the first place. It leaves you
wondering why he hasnít been partying for a year to celebrate the
death that saved him from a lifetime of bitchery. Hell, I wanted to
celebrate just because the movie ended. Well, but for the ominous
final scene that seems to threaten the possibility of a sequel.
Over somebodyís dead body indeed.