On Thanksgiving night, having stuffed ourselves for hours, John and I came home at 6 and crawled into bed to watch Tina Fey's 2008 film Baby Mama. Now, I love Tina Fey. I do. And she looked really great in some of those dresses and suits, especially the short sleeved navy dress one with piping, and those pre-Sarah Palin Sarah Palin shoes. Amy Poehler has some hilarious scenes--my favorite is the one when she is trying to take the horse pill--and Steve Martin's long ponytail is a character unto itself.
But I was still underwhelmed by the flick, actually. I'm not sure if it's because it's hard to make comedy out of reproductive choices or because my sense of humor lost its vital fluids to my digestive processes, but this movie didn't do it for me.
Tonight, though, we watched Definitely Maybe, and I admit, I liked it. The narrative frame--the youngish dad telling his daughter a "mystery love story"--kind of worked. And yes, it was sappy, and even maybe a tad predictable, but there was something compelling about watching it all play out. There was recognition. There was reversal. More than once, in fact. And the three women in the movie are all, of course, so very lovely (especially Sacha Baron Cohen's pardnah Isla Fisher, left). This movie definitely isn't for everybody, and maybe I liked the early- to mid-nineties setting with Bill Clinton as a minor character, or maybe I just like the novelty of being narrated into the position of a bright and sympathetic eight year old, but yeah, I kinda liked it.