The movie is set in New York City in 1962. It’s a supposedly pre-feminist world where a womanising journalist falls for a ‘feminist’ author. The film stars Ewan McGregor, Renée Zellweger and David Hyde Pierce. It is directed by Peyton Reed and written by Eve Ahlert and Dennis Drake.
It is supposed to be an hilarious tribute to Rock Hudson and Doris Day movies like Pillow Talk (1959). It’s not. The on-purpose artificiality of 1962 New York is almost as irritating as Lars Von Trier’s intentionally bogus town of Dogville (2003). The film lacks wit, the stars are wrong for this material ( Zellweger miscast a little, McGregor a lot) and it fails to impress except for David Hyde Pierce in what was traditionally the “Tony Randall” role and the actual Tony Randall as the publishing house boss.
But check IMDb user comments. Some people love this film. LOVE IT!
I think the end credit sequence is where all the over-the-top wardrobe, huge sets and the desire to capture that populuxe vibe finally feel like a slick and entertaining concoction, rather than leaden and witless morass that is this movie. We get to hear McGregor do more of his Midge Ure-ish vocalising (a la Moulin Rougue) and Zellweger reminds us she was in Chicago (2002). This is the fun bit. Now you don’t have to watch the 100 minutes that come before this.