Directed by Garry Marshall
I don't want to seem like a snob for disliking this film. I don't have a problem with the romantic comedy genre, which you could probably tell after I declared passionate love for When Harry Met Sally in a previous post. But something about this movie rubs me the wrong way.
Edward Lewis, a wealthy business, takes a detour through Hollywood Boulevard on his way to Beverly Hills. He encounters Vivian Ward, a prostitute, who tries to pick him up. He tells her he only wants directions (give me a break) and will pay her if she shows him the right way to go. He decides she is not so gross after all and ends up paying her for sex. The morning after, he extends their "contract" to include the whole week so that she can accompany him to social events. Because apparently Richard Gere can't get a date for free.
I mean, the whole premise is just so ridiculous. It is laughable for all the wrong reasons. Prostitution is too serious a topic to be dressed up in this fluffy, romcom garb. Are we honestly supposed to believe Vivian doesn't have a pimp? Or doesn't have any kind of drug problem? I think we are supposed to think all her problems are solved at the end of the film. I suppose Edward could pay for the therapy.
There were smaller moments in the film that were just baffling to me. I guess we were supposed to feel empowered when Vivian told off the snobby shop workers after Edward gave her his credit cards? In your faces, bitches! She has a rich boyfriend now! Hurray underprivileged women everywhere!
I would probably avoid a gritty, realistic film about prostitution in Los Angeles, as it would be extremely upsetting to me. But I can't stomach this either.
Julia Roberts got so nervous filming the sex scenes that she broke out in hives. Hot.