Time, like most things, isn't linear. It absolves things and people of beginnings and ends, allows them to take different forms and continue existing. Memories fade in and out, shaping a path we can walk in any direction—the past, the future, it’s all relative. Sometimes, memory hits us suddenly and blends into reality, surrounding us in such a potent way—maybe it’s just a smell, maybe an item, maybe it’s the colour of a wallpaper we forgot about or a shadow…
Good movie about fathers and sons, terrible movie about romance (he's a creep!). I get the appeal—it's the Richard Curtis magic—but to me, this just feels like manufactured quotidian, and beneath the sweetness and "truth" about the beauty and banality of everyday life, there is an ugliness lurking, reinforcing a sexist status quo that stops me from falling for it in a way that doesn't happen with other Curtis movies (there's a whole essay to be written about how he portrays straight women (occasionally very badly) vs. lesbians (recurringly and respectfully, all things considered)—but the lesbian here is too minor a character to get into this).
Stephenie Meyer producing this is so funny (it's the only movie not adapted from one of her books that she has). Another entry in the Jennifer Coolidge Gay Icon canon. The movie is a great idea on paper, but it's particularly unfunny and I wish the central romance had been better developed.
I bet the airline only gave her a $100 voucher off her next flight as compensation for the "inconvenience" they caused.
