Mike Binder must have had some kind of seriously serious blackmail-worthy information on Colin Firth. There is no other way to explain why he'd allow himself to complete a single scene in this film without walking right off and calling a lawyer.
I only decided to watch this movie because Firth was in it, and hoped for a smart film that would distract me with voyeuristic moments into American-English cross-culturalism. Instead, one improbable scene after another violently attacked my intelligence, as Bender starts an affair with Margeaux Hemingway, who's married to Firth, who falls for Bender's wife. Hemingway and Bender then try to bait their spouses into an affair, which they then regret, compounded by the fact the the spouses fall in love with each other.
The consistent nonsense of this film comes from the humanly improbable scenarios, and the pervasive personality disorders of each character with no context whatsoever. Firth apparently is trying to come across as a cuckold, who likes "letting off steam" by violently beating up unsuspecting(?) staff who consistently meet with him after work in a pub. No cops, no witnesses, no suing, no quitting - just violence then "see ya at work tomorrow." Bender is just an idiot writer whose interests, goals, motivations and drive seem to shift schizophrenically in every scene. His wife is a control freak he and Firth can't seem to get over, while Hemingway plays a neurotic narcissist actress that everyone keeps tolerating. The nuttiness of this movie is compounded by the attempt at a romantic ending, which only leaves you dazed, confused and convinced that you will regret having ever donated 2 hours of your life to this movie.
In the credits, Binder adds "This Movie is for Dyno, I Love You..." Dyno, if this is representative of Binder's love, then you need to develop an escape plan. And hopefully, you missed the film he dedicated to you.
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