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Love dont cost a thing Movie Review
by:Edwardo Jackson

MOVIE BIASES: While I like Nick Cannon, looks like the continuation of a bad trend.
MAJOR PLAYERS: Nick Cannon (Drumline), Christina Milian (singer), Steve Harvey (The Fighting Temptations), and co-writer/director Troy Beyer (Let’s Talk about Sex).

Hollywood’s laziness never ceases to astound me. I remember when this project was being shopped around for rewrites the summer of 2001 when people still had “Save the Last Dance” fever, an affliction of primarily white studio execs who believe they can take a classic (like Romeo & Juliet) or a recent classic movie (like, say “Can’t Buy Me Love”), dip it in chocolate, swirl it to a hip hop soundtrack, and produce ninety minutes of celluloid that is NOT as lightheaded and empty as a candidate for California’s governor. But they can’t. Some people hate remakes. I like remakes when they’re done WELL (Thomas Crown Affair, anyone?). But when they just typify and magnify Hollywood’s own cultural/artistic bankruptcy and carelessness, we see that “Love” DOES cost: two hours of your life that you can never get back.

Fairly faithful structurally to the 1987 pseudo-classic “Can’t Buy Me Love,” “Love” follows daydreaming pool boy Alvin Johnson (Cannon), an engine building nerd with dreams of a college scholarship he can win through a GM contest.

When super-popular, NBA ballplayer-dating head cheerleader Paris Morgan (Milian) wrecks her mom’s ride, Alvin’s to the rescue with an unorthodox proposal: he’ll fix the $1500 worth of damage if she’ll pretend to be his girlfriend for two weeks. After Alvin makes his transition from fool to cool, the success goes to his head, alienating his close, uncool friends and, in the process, the girl who brought him there.

Where does one begin with such dreck like this? From the Murphy Lee Snoop-speak song that played at the beginning of the movie, I should have known I was in trouble. While I like Murphy Lee and Snoop fine, I just got the feeling that this movie was going to be dumbed down to the most teenage denominator – and it failed even at that. Today’s teenage audiences can be easily lured by age-appropriate subject matter (like the promise of comedy in this movie’s trailers) but need to be sated by execution, which this movie lacks. The script is as abysmally simple and obvious as a paint-by-numbers kit. I could hear the bubble gum-popping snickers behind me of this movie’s target audience the entire way through. Although Beyer shows promise as a director in her second feature with some unique shot selection, she loses control of the movie with no sense of nuance, pacing, or direction of her actors.

While we’re on the subject… There’s rarely a realistic moment played in this movie, probably because we’re distracted by the obviously over-21 actors playing teenagers that saturate this movie. They don’t look convincing, they don’t act convincing. Sure, they don’t have much to work with considering the predictable, Kraft mac-and-cheesy script (complete with big, even cheesier dance number), but they don’t even look like they’re having fun. We all know how James Bond movies are going to play out, too, so if I’M not having fun either, then we have a problem. Christina Milian is pure Central Casting as the delicious, cocoa-flavored Pop Tart of a cheerleader Paris Morgan, so fine, she’s always lit as if glowing on screen. Both Beyer and Milian go to great pains to show that she’s a hottie with a heart, yet the script’s so simple, we don’t even care. Not for a second do you believe babyfaced lady-killer Nick Cannon as a geek, not for lack of trying but just because he’s such a supremely confident being that his transition to Cool Alvin, while awkward at times, is tenfold more believable. Steve Harvey, although amusing at times, just embarrasses the hell out of us with his horny, helpful dad, mugging incessantly with those really large teeth.

But I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. To those out there who think I “don’t like black films,” then this isn’t gonna change your misguided minds. But I’ll tell you what I don’t like—crap, in any flavor. Truth is I love black films and film in general. There is no reason in this day and age that we have to settle for this type of lazy crap. We have more choices, more opportunity, and more buying power than in decades past. If we continue to go see and support these type of films that are poorly scripted, unoriginal, and nonchalant with our culture, guess what? Hollywood will continue to make them. So if you want to consider “Love Don’t Cost a Thing” as representative of “black film,” then yeah, I HATE black film. But if you want a better barometer of black film (and of Nick Cannon’s luminous talent) – even black teen-oriented film, then I’ll be curled up on the couch with “Drumline.” And THAT’S two hours much better spent.

@ REEL
(ONE REEL)
If you can’t sneak in, don’t go in.

 

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