Though it seems unlikely, someone this weekend is going to
be dragged to see “Dorfman In Love.” Forget about the film for a second: who is
this person, and what have they done to deserve this? Has he or she been bad? Isn’t
there a cheaper way to dole out punishment then paying arthouse ticket prices
for a movie that doesn’t even deliver on its basic premise at even a sitcom
level? Why does the world hate this person? Do they owe thousands in back
taxes? Did they accidentally murder someone while they were backing up their car? Are they a
Kardashian?
“Dorfman In Love” is the latest in a long line of films to
pretend that when a plucky young woman isn’t engaged or married, it must be a
personal and professional Hiroshima. That woman is Deb Dorfman (Sara Rue), an
attractive cubicle drone who slaves underneath her high maintenance brother for
what we’re to assume are menial wages before heading home to care for her
depressed widower father. Her life revolves around babysitting her embittered,
misanthropic pop and longing for the attentions of Jay (Johann Urb), a
globe-trotting reporter with Meg Ryan bangs who seems like a tool immediately
for having the spliced facial features of Aaron Eckhart and Bradley Cooper.
Jay is called away on assignment, meaning he’ll need a
cat-sitter to take care of his little ball of fur. When Deb volunteers, it’s
meant to drive her life cah-raaazy! See, Deb is a child of the suburbs, and Jay
lives in the kind of massive downtown loft where Richard Gere has affairs with
women who later try to kill him. This means taking the subway and entering an
urban environment, one that terrifies the lilywhite Deb. When she accidentally
bumps into a homeless black man, she recoils as if touched by the hand of
Satan. This is one classy broad.
In between listening to audiobooks of romance novels (do
people still do this?), Deb takes it upon herself to remodel Jay’s apartment, a
task that brings her in contact with a Sexy Ethnic Dreamboy named Cookie (Haaz
Sleiman) who lives next door and takes on casual partners the way we floss our
teeth. In case you were wondering, that means every night. You should be
flossing every night. Make a note of this; you won’t be reminded again.
Deb’s choice between Jay and Cookie soon becomes the source
of non-suspense, forcing director Bradley Leong to introduce what feels like a
last minute final-draft addition, the revelation that Deb’s married
boss/brother Daniel (Jonathan Chase) is a (PG-13) sex addict who has willingly
become the literal whipping boy for a couple of Cookie’s neighbors (Haley Marie
Norman and Sophie Monk). It’s not clear how either title
reflects on this subplot, which seems to have mixed notions about Daniel as a
person: is he a natural hedonist, a pathological liar, or a loving husband
who’s been led astray? Lucky for Chase, he gets to play all three! Hooray for
acting!
Elliot Gould schlubs through all this chaos as if he were some nobody character actor, and not a goddamned national treasure. Gould is
forced to play schtick as Burt, Deb’s lonely father and a man who has a
pessimistic quip for everything, usually revolving around calling someone a
“fagela.” Despite his state of despair, he’s passed around by the characters as
a prop, just another listless old man who no longer has no control over his
conversational filters, until he’s needed for some on-point third act
wisdom. What’s disheartening is that it feels as if Gould is supposed to be
playing someone far older than he is. His shuffling and moaning, from the
dialogue, seem like byproducts of dementia, a mental state Gould never once
suggests in his half-awake performance. When you’re not accomplished, this is
considered half-assing it. When you’re Elliot Gould, this is pretty much giving
the material what it deserves.
Holding the center of this film is Rue, a prolific
journeywoman who has starred in roles of varying size on both television and
film, gaining her primary visibility early on as the lead in ABC sitcom “Less
Than Perfect.” Her journey is not without struggle, as she battled bullshit industry
snark as a “plus-sized” actress for years before finally slimming down. It
doesn’t seem fair that her “reward” for achieving both longevity and a body
type more “conventionally attractive” than her original attributes is seeing her comedic talents wasted on a script that made her the
first person to long for the days of “Less Than Perfect.” Perhaps she leaped at
the chance to work with Gould, or maybe they paid her in gold dubloons. Whatever
the case, she deserves better than this tedious effort.
[D-]
