"I've seen worse - but that's not really saying much."
"Sweet Home Albama" did not make me vomit.If that doesn't sound like high praise, good. I'm not recommending anyone see this unless a relationship with a member of the opposite sex renders it absolutely necessary. But, if your attendance is indeed required, feel free to wear a nice shirt, maybe even a tie. This one won't send you to the dry cleaners.
"Sweet Home Alabama" is a movie designed to please audiences. That can be a noble cause in the right hands; some past respectable crowd-pleasers include "ET," "Big Daddy," and "Anal Raiders 4." Some filmmakers, however, don't understand what the audience wants, and their attempts at delivering satisfaction are woefully misguided. Take Kevin Costner, for example: He still thinks people are clamoring for his presence in motion pictures, while the exact opposite is true. I'm sure a lot of people would be pleased if he retreated into a cave somewhere and never stepped foot onto a Hollywood sound stage again.
Anyways, Reese Witherspoon's latest starring vehicle is neither "ET" nor "Dragonfly"--it's more like "Armageddon" for women. It delivers all the comfortably routine plot mechanics the audience expects, a load of familiar punchlines, and stock characters modeled on characters that audiences found appealing in the past. The filmmakers connect the dots established by previous romantic comedies, and do it with extreme haste; the film's momentum keeps spare sparts from falling off.There is little else to say about a movie like this. It's like drinking cough syrup when you run out of booze: it'll do the trick, but that doesn't make it a particularly savory experience.