You know Ireland? That place where everyone dresses in green, the only drink available is Guiness, everyone is very sure (to be sure, to be sure), and where if you look a flame-headed man in the eye, you’re libel fer a beatin? No, us neither. As that place exists only in the minds of cigar-toting, fleshy eyed Hollywood executives. And now, also in Leap Year. Hoi ti toy ti toy.
Green at the gills
Where to begin. She’s a fiercely independent interior designer from Boston with money to burn; he’s a (potato?) chef from the nether regions of Ireland, about to lose his pub to the debt collectors. She’s never heard of the little town of Wales (is it a country? Who even cares eh?), and he’s never heard of electricity. Are they meant to be? Har de har har, ooh of course they are, you eejits, pull us another pint!
Is that a plane, or a time machine?
Mrs I’m-From-America, aka Anna Brady (Amy Adams) is deliriously happy with her cardiologist boyfriend Jeremy (Adam Scott) and as their four-year anniversary approaches, she becomes convinced he is about to get down on bended knee. He doesn’t (Ha ha oh the unexpected hilarity), and heads off to Dublin instead for a conference. Like a bastard. Anna hatches a plan to propose to Jeremy in Ireland on Leap Day cos, you know, that’s the only time you can do it if you’re just a rubbish girl.
However, her carefully plotted travel itinerary falls into disarray when bad weather forces the airplane to make a detour, far from her intended destination of Dublin. What’s a girl to do when she’s stuck in Wales? Where apparently you can only wear brown? Thankfully, handsome innkeeper Declan (Matthew Goode) promises to help her travel all of the way to Dublin in time for February 29, in exchange for the euros to save his ailing pub. The trek to the Irish capital is fraught with peril, and Anna and Declan fall victim to outrageous misfortune, most of which are cow and sheep based. They have to dodge the countless Irish-Catholics, fall into massive puddles, discover the wheel and follow the leprechauns to a pot’o’gold (or whatever), and along the way, shock and more shock, they start to feel some special fuzzy feelings for one another. Even the usual charms of Amy Adams can’t save the script, and considering Matthew Goode has already rinsed the film in interviews, it’s no surprise that he too lacks sparkle.
It comes as no surprise that screenwriters Kaplan and Elfont were responsible for the Patrick Dempsey romantic comedy Made Of Honor, which painted Scotland as one big, bonnie, kilt-clad cliche. Expect nothing less from Leap Year, expect with a green lens instead of a tartan one. After the horror (the HORROR) of P.S I Love You, we hoped that Hollywood would give up the green-and-clovery ghost, but they’ve managed to outdo even that with this offensive, cliche filled monstrosity. Hollywood, you can’t do Ireland. Leave Ireland alone, OK?