No one comes out of the film well. They will try and pass this irritating chick flick off as a full throttled salute to ‘girl power’, but do not let that fool you. The Notebook director, Nick Cassavetes, has served up a film less funny than the bubonic plague and characters that are so grating, and generic, that it makes you want to revisit his over-hyped Ryan Gosling starring tear-fest, and put it on repeat.
Cameron Diaz is the successful city lawyer, Carly Whitten, who falls for the in no way stereotypical rich, handsome business-type, Mark King (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau). Unfortunately for her, however, he is married. What are the chances, right? This sets into motion the formation of a very unlikely friendship between the big-shot lawyer and her lovers wife, Kate King, played by Leslie Mann. The pair set out to expose the love-rat, suspecting further infidelity, finding along the way a third woman – Amber (Kate Upton) – who together, as a threesome, seek revenge on the cheating bozo.
Enduring Leslie Mann’s portrayal of Kate King – the insecure, mumbling mess of a wife – is a painful experience in itself, and one that can only be matched through viewing her previous films: Knocked Up, Funny People, This Is 40 et al. Diaz, the arrogant ‘awesome and I know it’ man-eater [‘cos, you know, she has never played that one before…], is more bearable but in no way less predictable, or boring. Upton, on the other hand, plays your typical kooky blonde, which seems to be a requirement for any modern day rom-com, contributing what seemed five seconds worth of dialogue to the whole affair.
Looking past the painstakingly awful characters, the film is just not funny, at all. The movie attempts, in vein, to entertain its audience with mind-numbingly tedious gags about sleazebag men and their cheating ways, as well as Kate rambling on incoherently about how her life is falling apart around her, but by that point, for your own sanity, you are begging to see the dog take a poop again on Carly’s fancy carpet, just to be away from them all for a few glorious, peaceful seconds.
It is not even one of those films of its genre that are so charmingly terrible that you can not help but adore it. The Other Woman is just plain rotten, to the core. Predictability is a given with such a film, but it is done in such a dim-witted, obvious fashion that you take it as a personal insult at how lazily put together it all feels. Men might come out of this looking bad, for the most part, but deep down this monstrosity does not flatter anyone. Seeing more women-centric films being made is a great thing, but this is not one to be proud of. Lock it away, throw away the key and move on quietly.