Watching the previews before the beginning of "Love and Other Drugs," I came to the realization that many romantic films take surprisingly simple situations and stretch them into full-length features.
One of the previews was about a woman who must choose between two men, while another was about a man who must decide whether or not to tell his best friend that he has spotted the friend's girlfriend cheating. The films seem to take minimalism past its breaking point—these aren't romantic comedies, they're simply common social situations.
"Love and Other Drugs," whatever its faults, is far from guilty of this trend. The Edward Zwick-directed, nonfiction novel-based film blends comedy, intense romance and period-piece documentation of the late 1990s pharmaceutical gold rush.
It chronicles the rise of Jamie Randall (Jake Gyllenhaal), a pharmaceutical salesman who rides the Viagra wave to the top of his profession, and Maggie Murdock (Anne Hathaway), the woman he meets with Stage 1 Parkinson's disease. The two begin their relationship as one that's supposed to stay strictly physical, but despite both of their wishes, it turns into something more serious.
Zwick, who has had success in past efforts such as "Glory" (1989) and "Blood Diamond" (2006), works in a different vein in this film, the focus of which is the intimate relationship between Jamie and Maggie. The challenge is maintaining this focus while avoiding the pitfalls of the cookie-cutter romantic comedy.
The film attempts this feat in several ways, among them the Parkinson's disease feature of Maggie's character, the fact that the film is set in the late 1990s, and Jamie's earnest desire to succeed professionally.
The problem with these unique details is that most of them are treated so weightily when they are dealt with, that they take the focus away from the dynamic between Jamie and Maggie.
The movie feels like four different films crammed into one, and the result is that viewers get a lot, but will be stumped as to which thread of the film is the most worthy of their attention.
For the most part, the chemistry between Gyllenhaal and Hathaway is successful. Gyllenhaal seems vaguely adolescent in everything he does, which is awkward at times but ultimately becomes endearing.
Hathaway, who looks to pack a heavier emotional punch in this film than in any of her earlier work, performs well but comes off as a little too capricious (perhaps intentionally, since her character is on medication the entire time).
The time period of the film, different than the generic present of most romantic comedies, is conveyed mainly by the appearance of archaic cell phones.The soundtrack is comprised mostly, but not entirely of '90s songs (at least one is from the most recent decade, ruining the uniformity). Besides the necessity of the pharmaceutical gold rush storyline, the '90s setting seems arbitrary and artificial.
Gyllenhaal's physical appearance throughout the film is pretty straightforward—he spends the majority of it in business attire. Hathaway, however, has looked better in previous films; here, she dresses mostly in quirky overalls and strange shawl apparati.
When combined with the fact that she is placed in a stereotypical exposed brick apartment with her unfinished artwork lying around, her wardrobe seems more like an attempt at 21st-century hipster than late '90s dress.
There are other specific problems that pop up throughout the film, such as Hank Azaria's doctor character uttering the phrase "Why not?" three times in one scene and then once again later in the film—it's unclear whether this was written self-consciously or not.
Another issue is the film's series of explicit sex scenes; I'm not sure if they serve any purpose except to lure audiences into the theater.
Additionally, at one point in the film, Jamie meets an older man—one who's been married to a woman with Parkinson's for years—who advises him to get away while he can, since the condition only worsens with time.
Although the man is meant to be an antagonistic character, the case he makes for Jake to abandon Maggie seems all too convincing. Not only is the intervention random and awkward, it makes us question whether Jamie should undertake the relationship that he strives for throughout the remainder of the film.
Ultimately, these side elements of "Love and Other Drugs" distract from the essence of the film, which is the romance between Jamie and Maggie. By the time we actually get to those essential scenes, Gyllenhaal and Hathaway would have to deliver dynamite chemistry combined with compelling dialogue to transfix us again, and though the writing in the film isn't terrible, it doesn't get the job done.
Zwick makes a valiant attempt at the multigenre film—a romance flick that guys might actually want to see—but in the end, he works so hard at this endeavor that he spreads himself too thin, and the effect is confusing rather than enlightening.