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"If
it's true that love doesn't play fair, then I suppose it
stands to reason that neither does the new romantic comedy
"Serendipity." It's another one of those fairy tale
romances complete with young, attractive, star-crossed lovers
whose respective paths to emotional consummation rest in the
palm of fate. Ah, fate ... a dubious concept, I do believe. Oh,
it's a pleasant enough thought ... that somewhere in the world
is that one special person whom you're meant to know, love,
understand, and grow old with. A "soul mate" who both
challenges and supports you through all of life's trials and
tribulations; one who no matter how far away they venture, will
always be mysteriously drawn back into your loving embrace,
right? Of course, the loophole of fate is that it operates under
the assumption that
both individuals speared by Cupid's arrow will find each other
equally captivating. If they do, it's destiny. If only one does,
then the previous sentences are just cause for a restraining
order.
I know my cynicism is rearing its ugly head here, and perhaps my
stance on fate has no place in a review of an essentially
good-natured romantic comedy. Yet I find it hard to get
emotionally involved in a romance where the only reason to root
for the lovers is that one is
played by John Cusack and the other is played by Kate
Beckinsale. Yes, they're both charming. Yes, they're both
likable. Yes, they're both attractive (my female friends
repeatedly convey their lust toward Cusack, while I'm estimating
that at least one-and-a-half of
my two star review is attributed to the fact that Beckinsale
looks absolutely gorgeous), and yes, they're both a little too
intelligent and level-headed to appear in such a simple minded
premise.
Jonathan Trager (Cusack) and Sara Thomas (Beckinsale) are two
strangers in the vast metropolis of Manhattan who happen to meet
on a bustling shopping day as they both reach for the same pair
of gloves. An immediate attraction exists. After engaging in
some playful small talk, they decide to go for coffee. Despite
both being
involved in somewhat serious relationships, they nonetheless
soon find themselves wandering around the city, discussing such
things as their favorite colors, movies, and various "New
York moments." As the evening winds down, Jonathan asks for
her phone number. Not convinced they are "meant" to be
together, Sara issues some rather numbing tests, one involving
the odds that they'll enter different elevators at the Waldorf
Astoria and arrive at the exact same floor.
Through an unfortunate circumstance (caused by a nasty little
boy dressed as Satan, no less), the elevators don't meet up and
the lost souls sadly go their separate ways. Cut to years later.
Both are involved in relationships (he to a kind but somewhat
uptight socialite, she to a pretentious Yanni wannabe), but
still think about what might have been. As clues begin to
surface telling them they were indeed meant for each other, they
both embark on a quest for what they fear
got lost in life's shuffle.
For all my ranting on romance and destiny, I must confess that
"Serendipity" isn't without its charms. I liked
Cusack, was captivated by Beckinsale, and did find certain
elements of Marc Klein's screenplay rather funny. I also enjoyed
the performances from the supporting players, particularly John
Corbett as Sara's endearingly self-absorbed musician boyfriend
and Eugene Levy's
ultra-anal Bloomingdale's salesman. Yet despite the plusses, the
movie expects us to believe that there is something at stake
here. There isn't. The intentions are sweet enough, but the film
is noticeably empty. Much has been made regarding the movie's
trailer in that it gives away the entire plot. That's not really
a marketing
blunder; there just isn't much to the story itself. I don't know
how they could have advertised the film without telegraphing
where it's headed.
Look, I don't have a problem with the idea of predestination,
even as it may or may not apply to fairy tale romance. But what
I do find rather humorous is the relative seriousness that many
individuals seem to attach to the notion. You know who those
people
are? No, not the raging beauties seen in flicks like
"Serendipity," but those unfortunate loveless couples
embroiled in bitterness, who as a result split their fifteen
minutes of fame on talk shows or lowest common denominator court
shows. You know, between the hours
of three and five in the afternoon, when channel surfing atop
the highest waves of Syndication Hell, on "Springer"
or "Ricki" or "Divorce Court" ... those are
the people I'm willing to bet place a disquietingly potent
emphasis on the power of destiny.
And I believe them. I do. It had to be fate. I mean, what else
could have thrown these people into their melting pots of
madness. Just watch these folks for a few minutes and tell me,
do you think honesty ever came into the equation? That these
individuals were true to themselves and forthcoming about what
they saw in those they supposedly loved? Fate isn't a
prerequisite to love. It's a crutch to insecurity. The
characters in "Serendipity" seem far too emotionally
mature to be mired in such a concept. They're not assisted by
fate, they're burdened by it.
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