Hitch

Somebody up there hates us. More than his vanilla ‘rap’ output, perhaps even more than Wild Wild West, Hitch showcases the very least of Mr. Will Smith’s talents. This tedious romantic comedy contrives to capture its star at his most ingratiating with lots of throwaway straight-to-camera rants and self-satisfied grins. Aargh! Stop trying so damned hard. It’s not charming. It’s just irritating.
But what would I know? I’m just a girl and the lacklustre Hitch revolves around the notion that women will respond to the kind of transparent chicanery that would have even the most subnormal checking to see if their purse was still there. Or at least that’s what Will Smith’s eponymous matchmaker believes. Then he tries putting his own dating advice into practice on – wait for it – inevitable tough nut Eva Mendes, a journalist who’s almost investigating him in one of the film’s nearly-not-quite plot-lines. Naturally, his methodology fails and soon Will’s bumbling about like Jerry Lewis on ketamine as we potter toward a cutesy moral about women preferring goofballs to chancers and an accidental ode to the sympathy fuck.
It’s not that the concept is any weedier than is usual for this benighted genre. But too many exchanges sound lifted from a screenplay peppered with post-it notes reading ‘Insert Dialogue Here’. A drippy romantic subplot between Kevin James’ portly drone and Amber Valetta’s Paris-in-pearls heiress only adds to the grim sense of prescription.
Given these shortcomings, it seems academic to point out that Eva Mendes teeters on heels to fantastic effect throughout.

Running Time 120mins. Cert 12a. Opens March 11th.