Oh, I’m gonna punch somebody at the Hallmark Channel. I thought I had picked up a copy of “Wedding Daze,” the 2006 comedy with Isla Fisher (which actually didn’t appear in the U.S. until 2008, when it went straight to DVD). Afterward, I realized it was “Wedding Daze,” a 2004 made-for-TV movie about a bunch of John Larroquette’s daughters getting married on the same day (made-for-TV hijinks ensue, trust me). The only enjoyable thing about this movie was my anticipation of seeing Isla Fisher at any moment. The “Isla Fisher Defense” will henceforth be my method of enduring chick flicks.
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Garry Marshall died a few months after the release of “Mother’s Day” (2016) and I can assure you, he took no sitcom-style plot conventions with him to the grave. They’re all here: the younger and sexier second wife, the wacky parents, the sassy black friend, the wedding scene, the hospital scene, the graveyard scene. He did everything but have Fonzie jump a shark again. But that was Marshall’s gift. He could take boilerplate romantic comedy material and pan fry it in enough schmaltz to clog an artery, yet it would always come out satisfying (not great, satisfying). It’s cinematic comfort food.
No man who possesses functioning testicles should ever watch “Nine Months” (1995). Ever. I’m serious. It might be the chickiest chick flick of all time. Possibly banned in Russia for being blatant propaganda for Whipped Nation, starring Hugh Grant and his ridiculous, girl-looking Supercuts hairdo. The plot is Every Woman’s Dream: She gets pregnant; he throws away his life and cuts off his nuts. Other hijinks ensue, but that’s not important. This movie’s only reason for being is to perpetuate female delusions. Too bad, really, because Julianne Moore was totally hot. And, strangely, so was a buff, tan Jeff Goldblum.
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