Movies will test your theories. They test mine constantly because there’s always a new film with something slightly different to offer … “this time, Jacob the werewolf needs a haircut!” For years I have speculated that the key to film romance is you have to want to fall in love with the people falling in love on screen. The question at this very moment … is that the only criteria? Will it stand by itself? The answer can be found in Love, Guaranteed, an adorable film with a plot so stupid it seems hand-crafted from discarded candy hearts.
Seriously, this is among the worst plots I have ever seen. Ever. Can it be saved by the unlimited cute of Rachael Leigh Cook and Damon Wayans Jr.? Before you answer, I want to point out that Rachael Leigh Cook is 41 as of this publishing, because I wasn’t feeling old enough already.
Susan (Cook) is a goody-goody Seattle lawyer. She can’t run a business, but she still manages to own a really nice home where she never sleeps. Feeling the heat of bankruptcy, she decides to take on a cynical payday in the form of Nick (Wayans), who has decided to sue internet relationship broker Love, Guaranteed for guaranteeing love. Nick has been on 986 (!) dates and has not yet found love.
Nine-hundred-and-eighty-six. Wrap your head around that number, will you? I can’t name 986 people, let alone go on dates with that number. The physical impossibility of the mechanics of doing so in a limited time span (in this case, a year) blows my mind. The film tells us Nick makes breakfast, lunch, and dinner dates all in the same day, every day. I’m immediately reminded of the “SNL” sketch mocking Wilt Chamberlain’s sex life claims: “I was coming off a bad relationship; she was still in the bathroom…” You’d need a secretary just to arrange your dating calendar … and even then, it couldn’t be done in a decade, let alone a year. You would have to devote your entire life to dating AND anticipating a failed date, which seems not only counterintuitive, but the defense’s leading argument. There isn’t much room for “let’s meet again” when your personal deli counter calls: “next!”
And then, of course, one has to ask: “what’s wrong with Nick?” Because, let’s face it, something HAS to be wrong with Nick. You go on ten failed dates in a row … well, maybe you can chalk that up to computer error. By twenty-five dates, you have to be throwing the match somehow, like deliberately pre-selecting unlikelihoods … but even then, how can you know? By 100 failed dates in a row, you are a sociopath. It is impossible for someone genuinely looking for love to sign up for a dating app and miss 100 times in a row by sheer bad luck.
And, of course, Nick is a nice guy, even at Nite. And Susan is an amiable single workaholic. Hmmm, what are the odds that these two get together? This is a classic idiot plot. It makes no sense. It shouldn’t make sense. Who sues a dating company for lack of love? And what do you hope to win? Love? Well, yes, of course. This is a movie.
Given that premise, you’d think I hated this film. And, Lord knows, I should have despised it. On top of everything else, it was hopelessly predictable and, sadly, combined the stock movie banalities of an evil corporation and an effervescent
gay friend. *sigh* So why didn’t I hate it? Well, one big reason is the details of the screenplay were not as terrible as the framework – for instance, there’s a running gag of a Tiffany tape stuck in Susan’s car. If you grew up with cassette, you know this pain. But the biggest reason is …Susan and Nick are loveable. You want to fall in love with them while they’re falling in love with each other. AHA! Theory:1 Movies:0!
(Wait. Was I playing against movies there? Who is the opponent in this scenario? Forget it.)
If you wipe my memory and show this film again to me, you’ll likely get a different answer. But today, I’m in a generous mood, so I’m calling Love, Guaranteed a guilty pleasure. So guilty, in fact, that I am loathe to guarantee a second viewing. But, hey, if She Was All That in 1999, she’s still all that in 2020.
I’ve written 1,000 reviews, every single one for free
Neither my words nor observations deserve a pedigree
Are you not entertained? I make no guarantee
But the day I stop is the day I no longer wish to shred with glee
Rated TV-PG, 90 Minutes
Director: Mark Steven Johnson
Writer: Elizabeth Hackett, Hilary Galanoy
Genre: Idiot romance
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: Hopeless romantics
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: Logicians
