Gary Marshall whips up his classic… gimmick film.
You saw Valentine’s Day. These two films are sisters…identical twin sisters. Most likely you’ll see New Year’s Eve. You can’t help it. It’s like a car accident – you have to look.
Sisters, Sisters, there were never such devoted sisters.
Devotion. The director is ever-devoted to his family. All of the Marshalls ever gather on-screen for lousy one-liners with scented candle solidarity.
Never had to have a chaperone, no sir, I’m here to keep my eye on her.
Every Runaway Bride and Princess Diaries extra shows up on some set or another.
Marshall has friends. If Gary Marshall made films like a sub sandwich, they’d be loaded with lettuce – a 20’s word for cash. Every star center stages, sometimes for short moments, but despite duration, there truly are “more celebrities than rehab…” (Admittedly a favorite line.)
Caring, sharing, every little thing that we are wearing.
Forced, familiar, unscripted dialogue. Sad. So sad. Zac Efron in his worst character to date, with a sweet but too-awkward storyline.
When a certain gentleman arrived from Rome, she wore the dress and I stayed home…
Ashton Kutcher, charm-smothered and swooning goes from grinch to groupie. Heigel hate-loves Bon Jovi. Sarah Jessica Parker needs then meets a date, and Hilary Swank sweats it out only to give it up. Josh Duhamel pines then finds love lost, while Halle Berry listens then blows kisses. Only Robert Deniro performs flawlessly, even from a prone position.
Lord, help the mister who comes between me and my sister… and Lord help the sister who comes between me and my man.
Everyone loves someone, and everyone banks all guts and glory on the ball drop to incite romance.
Splatter: on FILM 
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