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The Wedding Planner, 2001, 103 minutes, Rated PG-13
By Carla Robinson
Oh, that J-Lo. Our biggest Latina triple threat since Rita Moreno - a fellow
Boricua, no less. Although Rita didn’t get as far as her talent could have taken her,
she undeniably broke through (she was the first woman to win all four major entertainment
awards, the Grammy, Tony, Oscar and Emmy). Thankfully, the work of people like Moreno and
“the ageless hoofer,” Chita Rivera, allows a larger audience to appreciate
Jennifer Lopez.
But conspicuous consumerism can make us ill, and there’s something nauseating about
Lopez’s latest vehicle, The Wedding Planner.
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I suspected there was something rotten in
the city of San Francisco (the film’s setting) from the outset. The pairing of Lopez,
who plays Mary Fiore, a straitlaced, Italian-American wedding planner, with Matthew
McConaughey, as affianced Dr. Steve Edison, is a mismatch. Lopez and McConaughey, whose
underlying smirk makes him look like he’s got a dirty little secret waiting for him
in his trailer, have nothing in the way of chemistry.
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© 2001 Columbia Pictures, Inc.
Steve saves Mary from getting hit by a
dumpster
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The two come together in one of the laziest “meet
cutes” in cinematic history. She’s crossing the street and gets her Gucci heel
stuck in a manhole. As she’s trying to free herself, a dumpster almost mows her down.
Steve pushes her out of the way and when they look into each other’s eyes, it’s
beyond me what they see, but they are instantly smitten.
Little do they know, Mary is the planner for Steve’s wedding, and they go on a date
before they discover this. Why is Steve dating when he’s got a perfectly fine
fiancée waiting for him at home? He’s either a jerk or very confused and we’re
never quite sure which. Once Mary and Steve learn what’s up, they cool it. Mary is
disappointed, but Steve is set to marry rich, pretty Fran Donolly (Bridgette
Wilson-Sampras), and Mary’s father has brought a guy, Massimo (Justin Chambers), from
the Old Country for his daughter to marry.
The more time Mary spends with Massimo, the more the film unravels. He’s charming,
sweet, sincere, and good looking (Chambers is a Calvin Klein model, for crying out loud).
There’s not a darn thing wrong with him. He’s more appealing than Steve. When
you start rooting for the heroine to dump the hero and get with what’s supposed to be
a zero, you know a romantic comedy is in trouble.
Lopez never fully inhabits Mary. All you see is J-Lo. J-Lo wearing fly Armani suits. J-Lo
pretending she’s lovelorn. And what’s with J-Lo’s whispering? Half the time
she delivers her lines like she’s just swallowed an ice cube. And I can’t figure
out why Mary specifically had to be Italian, because there’s nothing in Lopez’s
characterization that gives the impression that she grew up in an Italian-American family.
When ethnicity is this thin, it feels like an afterthought. Maybe its intention was to
broaden Lopez’s appeal but her performance and the material don’t necessitate
it.
The Wedding Planner is certainly not the film that’s going to help Lopez second Rita
Moreno’s record.
M
May 2001
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