'Head Over Heels' lacks talent, plot

By Jeremy Rea
Staff Writer

I would assume hundreds of people play roles during the creation of a film; there is pre-production, production and post-production. Film editors alone must watch a movie hundreds of times.

With all this labor, then, it’s difficult not to lay blame on someone for allowing "Head Over Heels" to limp its way into theaters.

Little more than a glorified straight-to-video hack of a romantic comedy, "Head Over Heels" bills itself mostly on semi-star Freddie Prinze Jr., who is under contractual obligation to exude boyish-charm at all times, and some supermodels, who are under contractual obligation to look leggy.

This, unfortunately, leaves little room for any sort of talent, a role Monica Potter (the poor man’s Julia Roberts) tries in vain to fill.

Potter plays Amanda Pierce, an art restoration specialist in New York who has the world’s worst luck with men. We know this because she tells us at the outset of the film.

The originality doesn’t stop with the clever premise and irritating voice-over. Potter’s friend is a lesbian, and she works with old women who use vulgar language. Additionally, she catches her current boyfriend in bed with another woman, forcing her to find a new apartment.

Luckily for Potter, there are four supermodels looking for a roommate, and apparently they’ve been having a hard time finding one (why? Hell if I know).

The supermodels are played by actual supermodels, adding an air of realism to their vacant stares and generally irritating performance.

The aforementioned Prinze appears as Jim Winston, the typical Mr. Right with a dark secret. Revealing the secret would ruin some of the plot, so here goes: he’s really an FBI agent working undercover to catch a Russian crime lord. Or something. I don’t think the plot was really important.

What the movie wants you to think is important is that beautiful people can utilize painfully unfunny quips and smarmy romantic sludge in lieu of actual emotion and joy.

Prinze’s previously stated contract obligation allows him to substitute stupid grins and sit-ups for acting, so he cruises through the movie as though he’s not even aware he’s in it. Let’s not even bring up the supermodels again.

But enough about the plot and the characters; they sucked, and that’s that. Also compromised is the second half of the romantic comedy equation (it’s comedy, if you were wondering).

Lewd humor in everyday situations is all the rage in Hollywood movies right now, and far be it from "Head Over Heels" not to jump on the derivative crap bandwagon. When a film is made with care, and infused with energy and happiness, the audience may very well find themselves laughing at situations they would normally squirm at. Such is the beauty of craftsmanship.

I found myself being sad I was alive. No one involved was left any chance to salvage even the slightest glint of dignity, including the audience.

So, in conclusion, the film ends with everyone being beautiful and pretending to be happy, but no one giving a damn. I’m an hour and a half closer to death now.

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