By movie's end, I felt like I'd been slamming Whiskey shots for two straight hours: I needed a place to puke.
Set predominately in Ireland, about the only thing this incompetently written and directed film did was make me feel Irish. By movie's end, I felt like I'd been slamming Whiskey shots for two straight hours: I needed a place to puke.
Janeane Garolfalo ends up in Ireland because she's playing a woman named Marcy who is a political assistant to Boston senator John McGlory (Jay O. Sanders). On the advice of McGlory's other assistant (Denis Leary), Marcy is sent to the emerald isle to find some relatives -- any relatives -- to help McGlory get reelected. Coincidentally, Marcy arrives during a matchmaking festival and instantly becomes the apple of every lowly Irish guy's eye because, one presumes, all the Irish lasses are either taken or resemble Rush Limbaugh.
The first half of this film tries to be a dark comedy while the second half resembles a romantic comedy -- all because director Mark Joffe hasn't the slightest idea what he's doing. This theory is further supported by the fact that the movie looks like it was filmed by a rhesus monkey with a video camera. The editing looks like it was performed by a rhesus monkey with a Cuisinart. Apparently, if you're a rhesus monkey, you can really go places in Hollywood.
There's nothing in "The Matchmaker" that is interesting or believable, and it's more predictable than the Irish reaction to a visit by the British prime minister. Janeane walks into town, treats everybody like an idiot, then quickly falls in love with the first guy who doesn't look like he sleeps in his own vomit. Apparently, in Ireland, that kind of a man is indeed a rare find.
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