Relatively early on into this remake of the well-loved 1981 comedy starring Dudley Moore
and Liza Minnelli,
the tough and intimidating and possibly nuts would-be father-in-law of the wealthy drunkard title character is extolling the virtues of his high-profile businesswoman daughter. “She once bought a crack house and turned it into a condo,” he brags. “That's funny; I once did the exact opposite,” demurs Arthur, in that slightly fake-deferential but unmistakably barbed delivery that’s a specialty of the performer playing him this time around, the British comic Russell Brand.
If that exchange—which, to my mind, is enhanced by the fact that an ultra-gruff Nick Nolte
is playing the prospective father-in-law—strikes you as funny—and I’ll admit right now that it did, as it happens, make me laugh, and not just a little bit, so there you have it—well, then you’re likely to have an OK or better time with “Arthur.” Granted, I’m not one of the odd people out there who believes that remaking “Arthur,” the definitively fractured fairy tale of a drunk millionaire who has to choose (but not really) between money and love, constitutes some form of cinematic sacrilege. Having experienced the original on DVD recently, and having considered said original a crock with a lot of good one-liners and some excellent bravura comedic performances (particularly, of course, from Moore and from John Gielgud
), I wasn’t expecting too much more from this than another crock with good one-liners and so on.Brand definitely carries the first hour with his free-associative riffing and childlike energy, making the irresponsible rich playboy a more-than-acceptable mercurial object. His various foils—Luis Guzman
as an amiable but almost constantly befuddled butler, Helen Mirren
doing stiff-upper-lip wisecracks and compassion in a gender-reversed version of the Gielgud role, Jennifer Garner
as the manic man trap who wants to snare Arthur in a marriage—give about as good as they get. And Greta Gerwig, in the role originated by Minnelli, that of the nice-but-poor girl from the outer boroughs who captures Arthur’s childlike heart, is both magnetic and charmingly natural.Still, it has to be said that in the picture’s second half things get bogged down in unnecessarily drawn-out plot complications which, among other things, cause both the comic energy and the disarming charm of the performers to lose more than a bit of steam. But the cinematography remains bright and shiny, the New York locations are lovingly treated, and the old Christopher Cross
song is semi-enticingly evoked but never completely reprised. I know what you’re waiting for me to say, so I’ll just say it: As remakes go, I guess this is the best that they could do.Grade: ★★★ out of 5 stars
), a real estate agent who dresses in dweebish plaid shirts, and Fred (Jason Sudeikis), a life-insurance salesman as genial and square as Howdy Doody, are suburban schlubs devoted to their wives and family. When Rick isn’t taking out the trash or disciplining his children with textbook New Dad sensitivity, he, like Fred, has one topic on the brain: all the sexy, gorgeous women who, as faithful and loving husbands, they will never, ever get to sleep with.
Sudeikis, in his first major movie role, has an agreeably dorky, bootlicking officiousness. (Fred thinks that he’s scored a victory if he figures out how to look at a woman’s ass without his wife seeing him.) They are so domesticated, the joke is they don’t even know their pent-up sexual frustration is driving them nuts.
) and Grace (
), to figure that out, and to propose a solution: They will give their husbands a “hall pass,” a week off from marriage during which the two will be allowed to sow their wild oats—and, in theory, purge all those demons of roving-eyed desire. 
and 
head designer 
entire digestive system was removed, so now he gets his nutrients from feeding off of the gasps the audience at his fashion shows make when he sends a $3,000 cobweb tunic down the runway. And he also gets life when he listens to the remaining fat on a model eating away at itself after she snorts a line of the bad shit. So because of this, I thought it was a little crotch-scratching strange when 
hired Karl to direct their commercial starring 
and common sense. But Kunty Karl tells 
newest diet mantra :)
and let my fupa lead me to an absolutely random and bizarre hip hop pool party where nobody is dancing. 
(Marry You), 
(Marry Me) and 
(I Do) over and over again. We rode the Zipline across Tagaytay Ridge. We held hands while schools of Doctor Fish nibbled at our feet at Picnic Grove. 
