The
Matchmaker
Our rating: 2 out of 5
Rated: R
reviewed by Charity Bishop
I have a good dose of Irish in my blood. Perhaps that's why my hair
takes to red dyes more than anyone else I know, or why I have such a
milky complexion and peculiar sense of humor. Or maybe it's the reason
I'm known to be full of "blarney," or even get the Irish humor that
floats over the heads of my friends. Whatever the reason, Irish comedies
and me love one another like four leaf clovers and good fortune. And
The Matchmaker
very nearly fits the bill for amusing entertainment, with a few sorry
caveats along the way.
Marcy Tizard (Janeane Garofalo) is an overworked, underpaid politician's
assistant who is hoping to propel her favorite senator into the White
House. Desirous of cashing in on the Irish-American vote, her boss John
McGlory (Jay O. Sanders) wants to emphasize his Irish roots, just like
the Kennedys did in J.F.K.'s successful election campaign. So against
her wishes, Marcy is packed up, put on a tiny plane, and flown off to a
quaint little seaside village right in the midst of the annual
MatchMaking Festival. Young and old alike, people have come from all
over Ireland to be set up with prospective mates, making use of all the
hotel rooms and restaurants along the way. Marcy comes ill-prepared and
unassuming into their midst, forced to take on a tiny attic room in a
run-down hotel and try to track down the senator's ancestors among the
disinterested but highly amused public.
Rapidly running amuck of the dog-loving Sean Kelly (David O'Hara) and
befriending his sister who runs the inn (Maria Doyle Kennedy), Marcy
soon finds that general interest in her is more that of a prospective
wife than anything else. In fact, she has caught the attention of the
eccentric and nuptial-loving Dermot O'Brien (Milo O'Shea), who holds the
record for the most love matches and is eager to prove that even an
American girl can be done up right with just the proper sort of man. But
as Marcy searches fruitlessly for her boss' distant cousins and finds
herself falling in love, numerous complications fall into her path, not
the least of which the lovely Moira (Saffron Burrows). What the movie
basically becomes is a tongue in cheek parody of life among the freely
accepting Irish, where last names are aplenty and the pups are never
empty. Accents are thick, the men are charming, and no one ever passes
up the chance to take a passing kick at someone's tires.
In fact, if it weren't for two things in particular, I'd recommend the
film in a heartbeat or the length of a laugh, whichever happens to be
quickest given the occasion. The first thing that rather dampens the
entire funny experience is the language. The f-word flies around in both
Irish and American accents, along with a handful of other profanities
and abuses of deity. It doesn't really seem to fit any of the characters
or the situation, because in all other respects the little town is
charming. There are brotherly rivalries, and unexpected moments of
hilarity, such as the sight of two men hobbling out to the car, both
with broken legs, which stick out the windows as they attempt to
navigate down the road. Then there's the assault upon the senator's car,
in which tap dancing shoes and neighborhood kids are involved. The other
problem is the fact that the leading man and lady wind up sleeping
together. Nothing is shown except some passionate kissing, but it's
disturbing particularly when you consider that he's only separated from
his wife, not divorced.
Things are not all fun and games, though, since there is a damper in the
form of a passing sorrow. Marcy learns to love, and finds a home among
the Irish people, whose greatest enjoyment is singing off-key in pubs
and reminiscing about the good old days. There are a few faults apart
from the language (Marcy thinks that Sean is having a sexual tryst when
she hears banging sounds coming from his room, but it's actually his dog
slapping his tail against the wall) but in general, it was more amusing
than I'd seen in awhile. However, if you're searching for hilarity
without as many potty-mouthed issues, I would point you in the direction
of Widows' Peak.
|