There was a buzz in the air in Westwood last night...
As attendants rolled out the red carpet, the word was out that Ben Stiller's new romantic comedy, "The Heartbreak Kid", was being unveiled at the Landmark Theater.
Security was tight.
When I approached the entrance, a couple of burly bodyguards blocked my path, but they parted like the Red Sea when I flashed my ticket with instructions to admit.
The paparazzi swarmed the entire outside perimeter, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of Stiller, or at least some notable celeb to take a snap at.
In the lobby, ushers sharply attired, stood at attention, discreetly sweeping up the odd bit of trash which somehow managed to drift surreptitiously to the plush rugs underfoot.
Popcorn and soft drinks were on the house; modest offerings, yes - but zesty, nonetheless.
The atmosphere in the lobby was electric....
Pretty ladies in simple, elegant party dresses - usually a couple of inches above the knee, with a lot of bare shoulder and plunging neckline - chatted each other up; while their male counterparts - sartorially attired in monochromatic hues of black (occasionally grey) - scanned and sized up the power-brokers in the foyer.
Alas, a number of guests were a trifle disappointed when they were asked to take their seats after a Fire Marshal warned that lingering in the lobby was against local code.
For star-gazers, it meant there would not be chance to mingle with the celebrities as they were escorted into the gala premier.
With little fanfare, the curtain fell, and the film sprang to life on the screen.
Judging by the enthusiastic applause as the credits rolled, there were quite a few studio executives and production people in the theater last night, cheering on their talent.
The story quickly unfolded with a rapid-fire array of zany jokes spilling off the screen at breakneck speed.
In the opening scenes it was quickly established that Ben Stiller's character was a 40-year old man named Ed, yet to take the matrimonial plunge.
Egged on by his father, played by the star's real-life father (and a humiliating experience at the wedding of his ex-girlfriend to another man), Ed stumbles into a young beauty, pursues a brief courtship sans sex, and is suddenly married off before we can toss rice.
Heading down the highway to Mexico and a much anticipated honeymoon in romatic climbs, it suddenly becomes apparent to our heartbreak kid that something is not okey dokey upstairs with Mrs. Right.
In a handful of hilarious scenes - where Stiller's comedic timing is in top form - he is crushed to uncover his wife's sordid past...an addiction to blow, twenty-six thousand dollars of debt, and so on.
While most men would be thrilled to discover their new bride was a wild seductress in bed, capable of pretzel-bending moves not listed in the Guinness Book of Sexual Records, our conquering hero is mortified.
He confides to a friend he's been had, in more ways than one!
At this juncture, there is a bit of a lull, the audience becomes restless, and the filmgoer tosses and turns a bit in their seats.
But, when the missus gets badly sunburned, the tale takes an refreshing turn, the "kid" gets back on track, and everyone snaps out of their deep funk.
While Ed's wife is recuperating in their suite, our antsy Lothario is forced to fend for himself at the luxury resort.
As fate would have it, he falls for a young beauty from the States more suited to his down-to-earth organic tastes.
Suddenly, the whole movie shifts into high gear; there are complex, side-splitting moments of mayhem, mistaken assumptions, and turn-abouts that only Stiller's fine, comedic tuning could ever manage to pull off without a hitch.
While the film is funny, and Stiller commands with a captivating, charismatic presence on screen, the tendency to go for the toilet humor is his undoing.
"Heartbreak Kid" had the potential to be a classic, entertaining romantic comedy, able to stretch across the demographic; but the overly-aggressive bedroom scenes, which border on soft porn, stall the movie's widespread appeal from the get-go.
A couple of naughty visuals also register a definite no-no - in polite company, anyway.
Hence, the R rating.
For the most part, Stiller's in charge, at what he does best, but without gaining any groundbreaking, innovative, or artistic ground in the eyes of the industry.
In my estimation, the summer's blockbuster hit, "Knocked Up", was a much better film in the romantic comedy genre; if it's still playing locally, jump at the chance to spring for a ticket.
Sorry about that, Ben!
