In the immortal words of Dr. Frasier Crane, I would rather a tarantula lay eggs in my ear than be within a hundred yards of a theater showing Nia Vardalos's I Hate Valentine's Day. (And exactly why is this being released mid-summer? Counter-programming? Or, with that regrettable word "Hate" in the title, just, um, programming?) Stephanie Zacharek's amusing pan is the closest I am willing to get, as it contains this laugh-out-loud turn of phrase: "Vardalos works so hard at being flirty, fun and charming, that at times you almost feel cajoled into buying her shtick: She's like a department-store cosmetics saleswoman who insists on spritzing you with perfume even as you try desperately to scurry past her." John Corbett always acts like a good sport, and evidently he's a far better one than I.
Besides, with the concurrent release of Public Enemies, an esteemed filmmaker's latest mash note to What It Means To Be A Man, there's no shortage on romance at your local cineplex. A testosterone-fueled report coming soon.