License to Wed
Hey John Krasinski. How are you? Life at the top of being the star of NBC hit The Office is the greatest, I'm sure. Anyway, I bet that many well-meaning people, having seen this heapingly rank cup of rom-com with which you've seen fit to grace yourself, are probably clogging up your cell phone tubes trying to give you advice for your career. They are no doubt saying: oh, this is for your own good Mr. John, this is to keep you from becoming the next Zach "When Will A Quirky Woman Save Me and my iTunes" Braff or Matthew "Remember How Skinny I Was, Was That Drugs Or Anorexia Either Way Gross" Perry. You probably think this is very nice of them, and maybe you're hoping that my brilliant ass has words of wisdom for you as well. Only I don't, not me. I have for you instead an invitation. Right now, we word-fight, me and you behind the shed. Lanky Le Smirksologist versus Frizzy McInternetsalot. Stop dragging your feet.
Krazamataz, GOD. You effing sleepwalked on this one and you know it. The script's a total shambles. You and Mandy Moore, god rest her drying soul, have zero to negative chemistry. The characters are so finely drawn as to turn invisible when they stand sideways. Robin Williams is really, really old. That super-tacky fake-Jersey kid from the Nancy Drew movie is wandering around basically playing the same character. And you, you son of a primetime, you've got so little to work with that occasionally you just accidentally start playing Jim Halpert and I'm almost damn sure Ken Kwapis (another Office vet, for shame) got stuck with some long takes because you probably couldn't stop mugging at the camera and going Can you believe this guy I mean seriously...who let HIM run a parish?
This is something we should be basically talking about, and that's your commitment to the jokes. This Halpert guy, he's actually been kind of a passive-aggressive dick for like a year now and I'm not saying you've gone and got lazy with him but you haven't really been called upon to be very likable. So it's a total breath of super-fresh air when License to Wed forces you to take some pratfalls, 'cause you actually up and go for them, like you let all your limbs go wibbly in the air. Physical comedy will get you out of a lot of skinny corners and plus I bet it was more fun than mumbling things nervously while Robin Williams used that one tone of voice he has.
Sure, I get that sometimes probably you find out that your friend is directing a thing and you sign on because, well, you're so close to paying off that zeppelin! or whatever, but maybe next time you or someone you employ can read the thing all the way through. Maybe you or said person would have then noticed the part where the sweeping climax of the film takes place at Sandals Jamaica, a resort which just a few months back was sent up in a couple of spot-on Office episodes. Or maybe, even if that didn't matter to you and yours, someone would have noticed that not one character in the movie seems to have a reason for doing anything that he or she does. By the time your character cruelly and nonsensically punch Robin Williams in the face, we're all pretty much wishing we could feel his glorious, glorious pain. Oh! anything to feel alive again.
I see that you're crying, so I'll let you go, but you're skating on thin ice holding a basket of pre-counted un-hatched eggs in a lightning storm during swimming after eating, Krasinski. And I'm always watching.