“Holy crap. You’re worth every penny.”

Justin’s rating: “Durrrrrrrrrmahhhhhht” Okay, I’m done now.

Justin’s review: If you were ever to visit our house, particularly if you were a sparkly vampire who only dropped in during the middle of the night, you’d probably be overwhelmed to the point of speechlessness at the sheer number of romantic comedies on our DVD shelves. It isn’t that I have some weird, crippling addiction that calls for an intervention; I’m simply married. This is the “for better or for worse” part, the “you take my movies and I take yours” that you endure to strengthen your relationship.

And you want to hear an odd statement? They’re not all bad. I don’t mind soaking my brain in some piece of cutesy perfect-boy-meets-perfect-girl fluff, not only because it makes my wife happy, but because these films can be amusing, they’re pretty upbeat, and I like to imagine what they would be like if, at any moment, the zombies started their uprising in the middle of all this wooing.

So when I unleash the full power of my mighty Mutant anger upon The Wedding Date, it’s not Justin picking on an easy target meant to represent the entire romcom genre. It’s meant to say that, right here, this film – it’s root canal-achingly bad. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover that the entire movie was designed by committee, none of whom unified behind a single vision.

The setup is… workable, I suppose. It’s kind of a reverse Pretty Woman: a flustered and single Debra Messing hires a pricey male escort (Dermot Mulroney) to accompany her to her sister’s wedding in oh-so-charming Britain. One might expect a series of unlikely yet overly cute scenarios culminating with the escort teaching the single chick what it is to love. And also, that she should probably get to a clinic before the rash spreads, totally his fault, but that’s what you get.

Seriously — what goes wrong here? I made a list:

• This movie wants to be a blend of My Best Friend’s Wedding, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Made of Honor and pretty much every other wedding-type movie that takes place in England. And it achieves none of those other films’ charm.
• The editing is often abrupt, throwing us from scene to scene without much in the way of the previous scene’s resolution or any transition to speak of, which makes me wonder just how horribly this movie was shot that necessitated such ruthless editing techniques.
• Mulroney’s acting method: eyes half-lidded, voice deep but emotionless, tolerating this plot but just barely.
• Messing’s acting method: look wide-eyed, full-lipped and as innocent as a schoolgirl, unreasonably naïve for a woman who just hired a gigilo.
• None of the other characters, other than a sassy female sidekick, are given anything but the faintest echo of a personality. For instance, Messing bumps into a bartender who used to be a great friend and a previous boyfriend – who obviously is wistful because of it – but then that’s promptly dropped and he’s not seen again until the end credits. Okay… then why show him in the first place?
• The head-thumping assumption of “sex = romance”
• There’s never any reason given why these two hook up, other than they’re the leads. No great conversations or bonding moments or ever-so-delightful misunderstandings.
• Amy Adams is just wasted here. In all meanings of the phrase.
• For a “comedy,” there are precisely two laughs and a whole lot of strained smiles.

Perhaps the thing that irks me most is that this typifies the stupid female fantasy of taming that wild hunk that just so happened to wander into your life – without adding any depth or seasoning to it. It’s all sorts of wish fulfillment, with the odd message prompting older female viewers not to find any sort of inner strength and self-confidence, but to hire male escorts in the vain hope that they’ll end up looking like this guy, sans STDs, and will be persuaded to leave the business to settle down domestically, because the alternative – remaining single – is too horrific to contemplate.

Listen, I’m no expert of scriptwriting or the romantic genre, but I know that if studios took the following advice, they’d start pumping out much more watchable flicks: if you’re going to do a romance, treat both lead characters equally, giving them depth, interesting qualities and a real reason to fall in love. Don’t have the interesting guy and the vapid woman, or the fascinating woman and the hollow man; I’m far past being interested in such uneven hookups. Movies that do that sort of thing tell me that they’re not for the gender that’s being underrepresented, and we should just flee elsewhere. So I shall.