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Nia Vardalos and the producing team of Tom Hanks and
Rita Wilson must be trying to recapture the fifteen minutes
of fame they achieved with "My Big Fat Greek Wedding." Otherwise,
I don't think any of them would have been involved with
"My Life in Ruins." This is one of the worst romantic comedies
I've seen in a long time, not so much a film as an exercise
in meaningless messages and shallow characters. ***
Only the final half hour shows any degree of entertainment,
and even then it's a lost cause simply because the payoff
wasn't earned. As a vehicle for director Donald Petrie and
screenwriter Mike Reiss, it represents a colossal error
in judgment, serving as nothing other than a way to kill
ninety minutes. If you're with a date, good luck trying
to make up for it afterwards. ***
The story is about Georgia (Vardalos), a Greek American
who moved to Greece hoping to teach classical studies. That
didn't pan out, so she became a lowly tour guide on a ramshackle
bus with no air conditioning. At the start of the film,
she learns that she has been ranked as a merely average
guide, which is essentially one step away from getting fired.
Her brutally honest boss (Bernice Stegers) tells her that
she lacks "kefi," the Greek term for mojo or zest for life.
***
Unfortunately, she doesn't seem too keen on helping
Georgia find her "kefi." If anything, she's happy to let
Georgia's competition, a bus driver named Nico (Alistair
McGowan), do everything he can make her quit. And no wonder--Nico
is given the nice-looking bus with the working air conditioner,
and he's purposely assigned the nice Canadian tourists who
love him for bypassing all the historical landmarks in favor
of gift shops and stalls. ***
So what does that leave Georgia? A mishmash of nationalities
that no one seems to like. From America, we have Big Al
(Harland Williams) and Kim (Rachel Dratch), perfect examples
of why foreigners hate American tourists. We have the fat,
clueless, slow witted Gator (Jareb Dauplaise), who unknowingly
puts on a T-shirt with a Greek phrase that promotes sodomy.
We have Marc (Brian Palermo), an IHOP executive who will
gladly drone on and on about the history of pancakes and
his collection of rare syrups. And then there's Irv (Richard
Dreyfuss); he's loud and obnoxious, cracking very unfunny
jokes at Georgia's expense. He also serves as the archetypal
wise elder, a lonely widower who inspires Georgia with astute
observations on life. ***
From England, we have the kind old woman, Dorcas (Sheila
Bernette), who doubles as a pickpocket and shoplifter. We
also have the snooty Mr. Tullen (Ian Ogilvy), his icy wife
(Caroline Goodall), and their moody teenage daughter (Sophie
Stuckey), who spends almost the entire film wearing headphones
attached to a non-working MP3 player. ***
From Australia, we have a young couple (Simon Gleeson
and Natalie O'Donnell) who spout unintelligible slang and
are never seen without a can of Fosters in their hands.
***
From Spain, we have two bitter divorcees (María Botto
and María Adánaz) who are apparently not bitter enough to
keep looking for their respective Mr. Rights. ***
Finally, there's Alexis Georgoulis as the manly Greek
bus driver, Poupi, which unfortunately is pronounced like
"poopy" (his last name isn't any better). He inevitably
becomes Georgia's love interest, although not before he
shaves off his thick beard, dresses in nicer clothes, and
reveals that he can in fact speak English. ***
He's a student of the Zorba the Greek philosophy, giving
Georgia the spiel about living life passionately and without
a plan. What no one seems to notice is that he's all talk
and no walk. It's not as if he dances in the streets or
plays lovelorn melodies on the bouzouki. He's a bus driver,
for God's sake. Where's the passion in that? ***
These people are not characters. They're nothing more
than caricatures, broadly drawn stereotypes so lacking in
depth that they couldn't even aspire to be cardboard cutouts.
Even Vardalos, talented though she may be, can't escape
the superficiality of her painted face, her bright smile,
and her salon-quality hair. Her character is not a woman
with genuine problems so much as a byproduct of the romantic
comedy paradigm--a nice enough girl trapped in a less-than-ideal
situation with no boyfriend. The question is: Will she ever
find love, or is she doomed to spend the rest of her days
alone? And can she win the hearts and minds of the boorish
tourists? ***
Feel free to answer the above questions as you see
fit. If there is a reason to see "My Life in Ruins," it
would be to look at the ruins, which are not only lovely
up there on the screen, but are also hilariously symbolic
of the film itself. To say that it goes in the wrong direction
would be an understatement; it's tragically misguided, succeeding
only as an example of what not to do when making a romantic
comedy. ***
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