Must love misery

What I'm about to tell you is a cautionary tale. Take heed:

The other night I was at the video store -- again -- trying to figure out what kind of movie mood I was in. Did I want to laugh? Cry? Scream? Watch people, or robots, blow stuff up? I simply couldn't decide, and because I was eager to get home and feast on packaged sushi, I just picked one: Must Love Dogs.

Sweet Jesus on a Triscuit was that the wrong choice. I popped it in, fully expecting it not to suck, and settled comfortably onto my loveseat. Not five minutes later I realized I'd made a grave mistake. The script was terrible, and the acting was wooden. And where were the dogs, I ask? Not bounding happily to and fro in every other scene, as the title would suggest. There weren't nearly enough dog scenes. If the title suggests dogs, the movie had better have dogs, damn it. I want to see cute fluffy puppies, you fracking sonsabitches!

So anyway, I was surprised that a John Cusack movie could leave me so dissatisfied. That ... just ... doesn't happen to me. And yet it did. I am happy to report that though markedly softer and puffier than in days of yore, Mr. Cusack is still attractive. And Christopher Plummer? Hot! Ish. He's remarkably good-looking for a 1,200-year old. Every time he came on the screen, I was reminded of his role as the great Rev. Jonathan Whirley in Dragnet and, of course, People Against Goodness and Normalcy.

The whole point of this is to warn you: Do not rent Must Love Dogs. Use your money to rent something good, like ... well, Dragnet. Or Real Genius. Or Ghostbusters, if you don't already own it in triplicate *coughs*. Anything but this stale, stilted mess of a movie.