The Wedding Date

Unholy matrimony: Wedding Date is completely divorced from merit

By Anthony Del Valle

I hate to sound melodramatic, but in order for me to maintain my respect for 50 percent of the world's humans, I sure hope women reject en masse the latest imbecilic chick flick The Wedding Date. The script is processed schlock from the Sally Jessie Raphael School of Feelings.

Debra Messing (looking more and more like a Jennifer Aniston doll) plays Kat, a neurotically insecure almost-bride from Manhattan (where most of filmdom's neurotically insecure women seem to live). She hires male escort Nick (Dermot Mulroney) for $6,000 to take her to her sister's London wedding, 'cause the best man, see, is her ex-finance, and she wants to make him real jealous. Nick is the nicest male prostitute you'd ever want to meet, and the smartest, least jaded, least sleazy and most virginal. He's Ron Jeremy through the eyes of Walt Disney. Did I also mention he's the only man in the movie (except for wise old Daddy) who understands Kat? So, wouldn't you know it, our dreamy-eyed heroine falls for him, and it isn't long before he's giving her the $6,000 back, but there are all kinds of misunderstandings going on (like, "Does he REALLY love me?") and the couple are fighting, along with everyone else in the movie, and we're not really sure until the very end if Nick can really give up ho-ing and settle down to a proper life of fulfilling all of Kat's sexual and emotional needs.

Of course, this movie is meant for all the frustrated women in the audience who haven't had their sexual and emotional needs met, and Mulroney--whose butt gets more exposure than Paris Hilton ever dreamed of--is supposed to be the embodiment of all things sensitive and manly.

The film is made by women (Clare Kilner directing a screenplay by Dana Fox), which just goes to show female moviemakers are equally capable of insulting female audiences.