There are two plots in "Picture Perfect," one important, one not. The unimportant plot involves Kate (Jennifer Aniston) figuring out who and what is right for her and deciding between Nick (Jay Mohr) and Sam (Kevin Bacon). Unfortunately, this plot has more contrivances than the front page of the Weekly World News, so director Glenn Gordon Caron is forced to turn to the preferred fallback plot of most overweight slag directors: Make your lead actress wear increasingly smaller dresses in the hope of seeing her breasts shoot out of the top like a pair of runaway armadillos.
By the end of the film, Aniston spends more time pulling up her dress than she does speaking, which makes one wonder if Caron was forced to write his part of the script with his one free hand. It's the only logical explanation for a story so inanely stuck together.
Kate, who works in an advertising agency, wants Sam and a promotion. She can have neither of these because Sam is only attracted to women who are taken, and because her boss, Mr. Mercer (Kevin Dunn), won't promote anybody who isn't settling down. To alleviate this problem, Kate's friend, Rita (Illeana Douglas), makes up a story of her engagement to Nick, a guy Kate took a photo with at a wedding. Suddenly, she gets the promotion and nails Sam. The trouble begins when people ask to meet Nick.
As a man who looks like he just pulled his head out of the ass of a large farm animal, Jay Mohr is about as likely to be the apple of Jennifer Aniston's eye as Pat Buchanan is to jump in the Rio Grande to save a family of drowning immigrants. Nevertheless, Caron tries to infuse the film with that oh-so-original root-for-the-regular-guy spirit by having Mohr stand around, look vulnerable and be nice. In the real world that's usually rewarded with a swift kick in the testicles.
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