"Object of My Affection": Sexless in New York

April 23, 1998
Web posted at: 1:23 a.m. EDT (0523 GMT)

From Reviewer Paul Tatara

(CNN) -- I was at least half-way excited when I sat down to watch the new Jennifer Aniston romantic comedy, "The Object of My Affection," and it wasn't because of my guilt-ridden appreciation of Aniston's all-American dream-girl demeanor, either. This one looked like it had real possibilities.

The screenplay (an adaptation of Stephen McCauley's novel) is by award-winning playwright Wendy Wasserstein, and the director is Nicholas Hytner, who seems an odd choice for breezy material like this, but nevertheless displayed impressive chops with his adaptation of Arthur Miller's "The Crucible" a couple years back. For once, this seemed like it could be a meeting of the minds, instead of a meeting of the income-generating toggle switches that real artists keep locked in their brains, just in case Hollywood comes calling.

Well, the switches have been toggled. I'm sure Wasserstein and Hytner are earnest in their attempt to make a thinking person's romance (what "Sleepless in Seattle" is supposed to be, if only anyone in the movie seemed capable of thinking), but aside from an all-important but thoroughly unworkable plot twist, this is the same damn piece of fluff that everyone else makes. It's not offensive, mind you, but if that's all you need to know to sit through a movie, you're partially responsible for me having to sit through this one, and I don't like you.

Like every other romantic comedy made since the late 1800s, this one is set in New York City so that the director can insert helicopter shots of the Brooklyn Bridge as a transitional device between locations. New York, as we all know by now, is the home of alarmingly gorgeous young women who can't buy even the semblance of happiness, but it seems to me that they might be able to if they would just do something besides walk forlornly through the West Village while wearing sunglasses. I can't recall if Aniston does that here, but let's just say that she seems to be doing it spiritually.

Aniston is Nina, a social worker who's cute as an extremely appealing button. She's got a boyfriend ("Mad About You"'s John Pankow), but, big surprise, he's a self-absorbed, manipulative little doofus. "You Gotta Be Kidding Me, Vol. I": Why would a woman like Aniston hook up with a lug like this in the first place? Is she trying to win some kind of perverse bet? Is she ... (gulp) ... insane?

Well, don't get too excited. Nothing that complex is going on. The reason Nina is dating this guy is because she has to if you expect anything to happen during the movie. Movies are not comprised of happy, healthy people eating snow cones. Someone has to be miserable so that the all-important Someone Else can fall down from heaven and alleviate their misery.

"Object of My Affection" movie trailer VXtreme streaming video (2:39)

Enter Paul Rudd as George, who doesn't fall down from heaven (no special-effects budget), but just walks in the front door of a party that Aniston's attending. The two start talking, and they hit it off immediately. There's just one problem -- George is gay, and he's in the midst of a gruesome breakup with his lover. The lover, played by Timothy Daly (of TV's late, un-great "Wings"), is the man-kissing, male version of Pankow's self-absorbed doofus, so I guess that makes Rudd the man-kissing, male version of a girl walking forlornly through the East Village wearing sunglasses.

Not that there's any man-kissing. George is the Hollywood version of a gay man, the kind that doesn't smooch, sometimes hugs, and never, ever touches his boyfriend below the neck. No wonder the relationship's not working. When Rudd finally breaks up with Daly, he moves in with the just-met Aniston. Evidently, she's the first friend he's ever made.

So here comes the unworkable plot twist. Aniston and Rudd start kinda likin' each other, then Aniston falls head-over heels in love with him. I guess she never noticed his propensity toward not touching the people he's supposed to be attracted to, but it wouldn't matter if she did because HE'S GAY. Of course he's not going to be pawing her. (OK, there is one scene in which the two almost make it, but, as they used to say back home in Alabama, "almost" only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.) Then Aniston gets pregnant by Pankow and she decides that she wants Rudd to raise the baby with her as if it's his own ... never mind that Rudd's character, if he were any blander, could be packaged by Quaker Oats as puffed rice cake. And, in case you've forgotten, HE'S GAY.

This is supposed to be the focal point of the rest of the movie. How will these two mad fools work out this private parts conundrum? Can a gay man and a straight woman live happily ever after as a married couple? Well, it's pretty obvious that this problem won't be worked out to anybody's liking if the movie is going to make much sense, and (surprisingly when you consider everything else that's been going on) the filmmakers opt for making sense when you least expect them to. Everything else is just padding, with various people (including Alan Alda, in a poorly written role, as a name-dropping book agent) debating the illogic of what Aniston is trying to do.

So, the end result is that Aniston is still an appealing, if not earth-shaking, screen presence, and she shows some real-life intelligence by picking a project with this much actual talent behind it. Too bad that she ended up with a protracted episode of "Friends." If you remember, it looked like Rachel would never sleep with Ross, either. She sure can pick 'em.

"The Object of my Affection" is about sex in a largely unspoken sort of way. Rudd's homosexuality could just as well have been a case of heterosexual impotence and the movie would have played the same. There's a little bit of cussin', as usual, and a couple of not very alarming sex scenes. Rated R. 110 minutes.

Related sites:

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• "The Object Of My Affection" - official site
• Internet Movie Database
  • "The Object Of My Affection"

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