'Only You' is the type of movie that makes anyone with a Y chromosome shudder in bewilderment. It embodies everything that romance-craving women want from a movie, and nothing a thoughtful viewer does. Marissa Tomei is told as a child that she will marry someone named Damon Bradley, and as an adult (I use the word generously) she decides to fly to Italy with one hours notice in pursuit of a stranger with that name. The crew at the airport accepts her idiotic reasoning for reopening the flight she missed ("The man I'll marry is on that plane." ?) and off she goes to Italy. When a man does this it's called 'stalking' or 'a security situation.' In the movie's grotesquely stereotypical idea of Italy, she improbably locates Damon after being completely boorish with a hotel clerk. The hotel clerk, who's old enough to give this girl an earful, instead instantly becomes cooperative, because he has no life, pride, story or values of his own. Bad writing is like that. Oh and her sister comes along too. I can only recount that much of the plot because this was so phenomenally stupid after 40 minutes that my attention drifted.
Most people, I find, appreciate 'common sense' both in life and in movies. Nothing in this remotely resembles life as you know it. For the length of the movie, Tomei and Hunt sit in judgment of men and their perceived failings, without ever once acknowledging Tomei is at best a complete flake, and at worst... a fickle, developmentally-delayed lunatic. In the end, after a similar plane-boarding crisis is overcome and true love bursts out on the plane, a crowd of Italian airport personnel stands on the tarmac waving bye-bye (to a jumbo-jet?). When one thinks of the painstaking care and artistry on display in old film noirs, this movie looks like garbage.
Most people, I find, appreciate 'common sense' both in life and in movies. Nothing in this remotely resembles life as you know it. For the length of the movie, Tomei and Hunt sit in judgment of men and their perceived failings, without ever once acknowledging Tomei is at best a complete flake, and at worst... a fickle, developmentally-delayed lunatic. In the end, after a similar plane-boarding crisis is overcome and true love bursts out on the plane, a crowd of Italian airport personnel stands on the tarmac waving bye-bye (to a jumbo-jet?). When one thinks of the painstaking care and artistry on display in old film noirs, this movie looks like garbage.