3.5 stars. Rating: PG-13, for sexual candor, profanity and occasional crude references
By Derrick Bang
Nonfiction “personal lifestyle”
books are an odd choice to adapt as a film comedy; the results can be unusual,
to say the least.
The most notorious example is
Woody Allen’s 1972 handling of David Reuben’s best-selling Everything You
Always Wanted to Know About Sex * But Were Afraid to Ask, but it’s by no means
alone. More recent examples include Michele Alexander and Jeannie Long’s 1998
dating manual, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days: The Universal Don’ts of Dating, translated into a so-so romantic comedy with Kate Hudson and Matthew
McConaughey; and Rosalind Wiseman’s 2002 parenting guide, Queen Bees and
Wannabes: Helping Your Daughters Survive Cliques, Gossip, Boyfriends and Other
Realities of Adolescence, which became the 2004 Lindsey Lohan vehicle, Mean
Girls.
And could anything have been
stranger than the 2002 romantic dramedy made from William Powell’s 1970 counter-culture manual for revolution, The Anarchist Cookbook?
This eclectic company now has
been augmented by What to Expect When You’re Expecting, a romantic comedy
sorta-kinda suggested by Heidi Murkoff and Sharon Mazel’s revolutionary 1984 pregnancy
manual. The good news is that scripters Shauna Cross and Heather Hach have
concocted a reasonably entertaining ensemble comedy in the
intertwined-character mode of Valentine’s Day and New Year’s Eve.
Director Kirk Jones (Waking Ned
Devine, Nanny McPhee) capably rides herd on the large cast — most of
the time — granting more or less equal exposure to half a dozen sets of
characters and divergent narratives, which eventually intersect to one slight
degree or another. The result is enjoyable, occasionally hilarious — Chris
Rock, in particular, remains one of the funniest guys on the planet — and even
fitfully faithful to its source material.
But not perfect. A sidebar trip
to Ethiopia, when one couple adopts an African orphan, is much too grim for a
movie this frothy; even fleeting glimpses of poverty are enough to snuff the
rest of the film’s larkish vibe, despite Jones’ effort to lend dignity through
a ritualized adoption ceremony.
Financial means is an issue of
concern to a few of these characters, as well, and we never do get closure on
the crisis that results when one loses her job. That’s rather sloppy.
Fortunately, we’re mostly
occupied by the trials and tribulations of five women, the men in their orbits,
and their shaky, cautious and wholly unprepared efforts to start a family. If
one lesson is carried away from this film —no doubt is referenced frequently in
Murkoff and Mazel’s book — it’s this: You simply can’t prepare for everything.
At some point, you gotta just go with the flow and roll with the punches.
Baby-crazy author and “lactation
expert” Wendy Cooper (Elizabeth Banks) has become maniacal in her determination
to maximize conception via carefully timed, ah, “appointments” with her
accommodating husband, Gary (Ben Falcone). As it happens, Wendy learns of her happy
pregnancy just as Gary’s competitive, alpha-prime father, Ramsey Cooper (Dennis
Quaid), and his much younger trophy wife, Skyler (Brooklyn Decker), make the
same announcement.
And, to Ramsey’s one-upsmanship
glee, Skyler is pregnant with twins ... which means two new mini-Coopers to
Gary and Wendy’s one. (And yes, the script trades on that cute pun. Perhaps
overmuch.)
Television fitness guru Jules
(Cameron Diaz) and dance show star Evan (Matthew Morrison, of Glee) are a
recent couple, having just won top honors as partners on TV’s Celebrity Dance
Factor. They’re also about to become parents, but Jules isn’t about to let a
baby bump interfere with her busy, jet-setting lifestyle.
Holly (Jennifer Lopez), a
professional photographer who shoots baby photos and family-oriented close
encounters with sea life at the local aquarium, has abandoned any hope of
bearing her own child; she now has turned to adoption. Holly’s husband, Alex
(Rodrigo Santoro), can’t quite keep pace with his wife’s ambitious plans for
starting a family and buying the “perfect house,” as the icing on this maternal
cake.
Alex therefore tries to quell his
mounting panic by joining a “Dudes Support Group,” where four new fathers hang
out together in the park each day, trading advice and telling it like it really
is.
Finally, rival food truck chefs
Rosie (Anna Kendrick) and Marco (Chace Crawford), who never quite clicked as high
school sweethearts, surrender to impulse and the mutual attraction that erupts during
a friendly argument one evening. This hook-up brings the usual consequence of
unprotected sex, along with an unsettling question: What happens when your
first child comes before your first date?
Alex’s outings with the Dudes are
a stitch, in great part because of the Head Dude, Vic (Rock). Vic’s advice and
“dude rules” are hilarious, each pearl of wisdom delivered with Rock’s
impeccable comic timing. But Rock isn’t the entire package; the very image of
the dudes, as we first meet them — a “suited up” group shot intended to riff on
Batman’s utility belt or well-armed action heroes — is funny enough to put you
on the floor.
Vic and his compatriots — Gabe
(Rob Huebel), Craig (Thomas Lennon) and Patel (Amir Talai) — function as a
comedic Greek chorus, although their exaggerated bantering never conceals the
crucial fact that, nappies and all, these emasculated misfit love being
fathers.
The dynamic between Quaid’s
Ramsey and Decker’s Skyler also is a hoot, complete with mutual pet names that
are so embarrassing, they become even funnier. Skyler blossoms as the
impossible fantasy of a pregnant woman: the one who never loses her composure,
never succumbs to hormonal imbalance, delights in her baby bump — going so far
as to have her belly tattooed — and, in the deliver room, calmly does her work
without a bead of sweat appearing on her brow.
In short, the pregnancy-suffering
Wendy — all her careful research and authorial “guidance” now exposed as
idealistic nonsense — grows to loathe the very sight of Skyler. But Skyler
never notices; she’s too cheerfully well-balanced to take offense. And this,
too, is an amusing dynamic.
Jules and Evan do a lot of
talking and arguing — mostly over whether to circumcise their baby, when he
arrives — but Diaz and Morrison never look, sound or feel like an actual
couple. Their performances are superficial, which is ironic, given the shallow
natures of their characters (and no, I don’t think Jones directed them this way
intentionally, as some sort of clever statement).
In contrast, Kendrick and
Crawford seem quite authentic as an embryonic couple, but Rosie and Marco are
inhabiting some other film. Their spontaneous one-nighter and subsequent
attempt to bond are sweet, tender and genuine; Kendrick (“Up in the Air,”
“50/50”) continues to be an actress of subtle sensitivity, her body language
carefully attuned to every scene’s unique demands.
In other words, Rosie and Marco
feel real, as opposed to the mostly exaggerated caricatures romping through the
rest of the film. The tonal shift can be jarring, and I also regretted having
to leave these two young people, each time the narrative shifted to somebody
else; I’d love to have seen an entire film devoted to Rosie and Marco.
Another supporting character worth
mention: Rebel Wilson’s marvelous turn as Janice, Wendy’s zaftig assistant in
their mom-oriented shop, The Breast Choice. Janice is perhaps one spark plug
short of an engine, and her often ill-timed and occasionally clueless remarks
are a stitch, in great part because of Wilson’s comic timing. Would that she
and Rock could have shared a few scenes, but — alas — it doesn’t happen.
Few films include the services of
a “special prosthetics makeup effects supervisor,” and I must acknowledge that
Matthew Mungle — in that role — does a persuasive job with the growing baby bumps
displayed by each actress. And Diaz, in particular, deserves credit for letting
it all hang out during Jules’ bug-eyed delivery sequence. Yes, we’ve seen this
scene scores of times, but Diaz brings some fresh humor to the situation.
The bulk of the film is set in
Atlanta, which is a nice change; it’s refreshing to see bits of Georgia instead
of the ubiquitous Los Angeles or New York, where most rom-coms invariably take
place.
Bottom line: What to Expect is
an engaging and frequently funny date flick. While the screenplay occasionally
slides in awkward directions, I must admit that Jones has done a reasonable job
of delivering a film conceived from a best-selling pregnancy manual.
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