Memo to Steven: Nobody cares. You're all just basically whores.
Reality in Los Angeles isn't reality anywhere else. Yet filmmakers continue to think they can glean something important through an examination of the lives of people who reside there.
Apparently, director Steven Soderbergh wanted to rediscover his indie roots, so he gathered up two million dollars and a digital camera, and shot an entire movie in a few days with a bunch of big stars. This might have been a good idea, had Soderbergh selected a subject worthy of a film. Instead, he focused on the twisted concept of love as practiced in modern day L.A. Memo to Steven: Nobody cares. You're all just basically whores. You live in the bunghole of America where status is everything and humanity is nothing and then you make two-hour movies that ask the question: Why is love in Los Angeles so screwed up? Short answer: Because people like you live there.
So here's what's going on: Lee (Catherine Keener) and Carl (David Hyde Pierce) are on the verge of divorce as she leaves for work in the morning. Lee's sister, Linda the Masseuse (Mary McCormack) has just arranged, via the Internet, to meet a guy, Arty (Enrico Colantoni), in Tucson. Both have lied about their ages (and probably various other things). Calvin (Blair Underwood) and Francesca (Julia Roberts) are starring in a movie as Nicholas and Catherine. This movie serves as the center of this film -- yes, a film within a film. The characters in the film-within-the-film don't like each other, so they're destined to fall in love because everything always works out in a Hollywood movie.
Naturally, almost nothing works out in real life, which appears to be this film's lone message. Everybody is getting ready for a birthday party for movie producer Gus (David Duchovny), who gets his love in the form of a hand job from Linda, who's really just there to give a massage, but really needs the money. So she gives him the hand job first and feels bad about it later. But then she buys a new dress and doesn't feel so bad after all.
Here's the deal: I didn't care about any of the characters -- not one iota. Let's face it; if you're dumb enough to live in L.A. and you're not making 20 million dollars a year, you deserve whatever you get.
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