Nothing New Under the Sun.

New in Town-Renee Zellweger, Harry Connick, Jr.





SEE?





Welcome to the post-Oscar season onslaught. Yet, another cold-hearted single businesswoman, Lucy (Zellweger), is sent out of the big city into the wilds of middle America (played here by the state of Minnesota) to teach the simple people at her company's plant her complicated and calculated big city ways. Along the way, she discovers that doing a job is about more than getting a result, it's about the people whose lives can be ruined in an instant by callous management. Why, it's those very people and their eccentricities that make America what it is, by golly (you may shed a tear here.) Before she learns those lessons, our cold businesswoman must meet a ruggedly handsome, no-nonsense firefighter-snowplower-union leader, Ted (Connick), to help her find her soft womanly side again. (Yes, I know. A female's gentle side is so easily misplaced because we're doing everything for everybody.) Bring on the requisite clash of big city (soulless, Godless, scrapbookless) versus small town (simple, un-hip, un-savvy in the ways of dressing like hookers and cursing like sailors.) This is how movies are made (you may sigh a collective depressed sigh here.) We, the audience, know that, as in all Valentine's season movies, the relationship between Lucy and Ted will be tested, attraction will be fought, and all will seem lost. In the end, however, love will prevail. It always does. Let us pause here.


And now for my Valentine's season rant...Why is it that all businesswomen must be uptight, uncaring bitches who require the services of some bearded, backwoods jack-of-all-trades (forgive the stereotype) to be thawed out of their block of ice? (Spoiler alert.) Never mind that it's Lucy's gumption, drive and business savvy that saves the plant she is sent to shut down. Never mind that she accomplishes this and more, turning the plant back over to the workers. Viva La Revolucion! No, that is not the real story of this movie. Certainly, it's not the story we came to see. We came to see the taming of the shrew. Why, our Lucy is so flummoxed by her feelings for Ted that she can't even formulate words (for a painfully long time) when he wishes her bon voyage back to Miami. She's a businesswoman. A plant manager. She talks to people all day. She can't manage, "I'll miss you, too." C'mon.



Look. I love a love story. Really! This rant is not just 'cause I get bitter around Valentine's Day. And, no, I haven't been reading any Susan Faludi lately. Today's romantic comedy, as a genre, feigns support of women by giving them a title and job competence, but it always comes down to how these businesswomen are so like men that it takes a real man's man to rein 'em back in to romance (confused yet?). As an apology for shooting him, Lucy bakes Ted a cake, and then claims she doesn't bake. If you don't bake, then why bring the man a cake? Bring him some stock options as an apology. Business is what you do best! The only giving in on Ted's side of the equation is when he let's Lucy take over the "mommy" duties and get his daughter dudded up for the big dance. Not really a big sacrifice on his part. Not quite like risking your career and moving to another state. No, really, I'm not bitter. I just prefer that these romantic comedies stop being thinly veiled treatises on how women need men and become stories about how we all need each other. Personally, I think that premise is where this movie began, and the Hollywood snowplow just ran right over it.



EAT.




Do Minnesotans eat an inordinate amount of tapioca? I'm just asking. The very consistency of it makes me shy away but when in Rome. Oddly, when I went to research what I assumed was a Minnesotan love affair with tapioca pudding, what I came across were a bunch of really hurt responses to this movie and its stereotyped characters. Let me just say this, when I fly from California to Texas to visit my family I am periodically asked by them if I still eat meat, as though once I pass into California airspace, all carnivorous impulses are sucked from my body by some vegan beach bunny. Conversely, when I return to California from Texas, I am usually treated to a barrage of Bush jokes and questions about how many weapons I'm carrying. So, I say lovingly to Minnesota, "Toughen up! Everybody's got a weak spot."




SHOP.



I don't know what skidproofing the wardrobe department put on dear Lucy's heels, but I want me some of that. Having lived in New Jersey, Michigan and Montana I can tell you heels were not an option for me. Frankly, Lucy, in the real world, you would have packed those bad girls in on day one. Boots, Lucy, boots. What better shopping opportunity for a city girl in the wild than the glorious array of "mukluks" that are available up north. Hell, I own five pair, and I live n L.A. (It gets chilly here. Stop it.) Ditch the bitch heels. (You were only put in them to develop your character anyway and maybe so Harry Connick didn't have to bend quite so far down to kiss you.) Get down to the ground. Slide on over to http://www.muklukstore.com/. You won't believe what you can get there. Actually, you might, you just won't believe the price. There is a fur free option that's cheaper for you animal lovers. For you Australia purists, there's always http://www.uggaustralia.com/. Now you're Minnesota ready. If only you had a man and a good tapioca recipe.