The best and really only sensible thing to say about the dire romantic comedy “Valentine’s Day,” which is neither romantic nor remotely comedic, is that it makes you appreciate and long for the breeziness, acting and basic competency — the decent lighting, focused cameras and choreographed action — of “Love Actually,” the ingratiating British movie it transparently and ineptly rips off. What else? The movie poster for “Valentine’s Day” that features more than a dozen performers is something of a bait and switch: Ashton Kutcher seems to get more face time than anyone else, including actually good performers like Julia Roberts and Anne Hathaway.
Directed by Garry Marshall, whose on-set presence is confirmed solely by a late-act cameo, “Valentine’s Day” crams more than a dozen near-famous, truly famous and “why in the world are they famous?” faces — Jamie Foxx, Shirley MacLaine, Eric Dane, Taylor Lautner — into a lazily interlaced story similarly stuffed with an astonishment of clichés. Set in Los Angeles — Look, there’s the Hollywood sign! And palm trees! And beaches! — the movie involves a miscellany of men and women of varying backgrounds, ages and skin tones who laugh and weep through an assortment of contrived setups. One man pops the question with his heart on his sleeve, while another two-times his way through separate sets of sheets. The women meanwhile sigh and smile in and out of their clothes.
Mr. Kutcher plays a florist whose business is so healthy that he lives in a neighborhood where the houses start at more than a million easy, while Jennifer Garner plays a schoolteacher who drives a car that costs about half of what her character probably earns in a year. Together with the rest of the cast they live in a Los Angeles rich in old-school stereotypes (fat people are good for jokes, as are ethnic types with strong accents) leavened by some new-age attitudes. One story thread, for instance, follows a gay man who comes out with dignity, if also with the usual cheap jokes: I’m right with you, someone says, just not behind you.
Ensemble movies are a Hollywood staple, but this one comes with a contemporary spin because every performer seems to have been tapped for a niche demographic, perhaps to reflect today’s fractured entertainment world. There are two dreamy doctors from “Grey’s Anatomy” (Mr. Dane and Patrick Dempsey) for fans of that series. The “Twilight” set can thrill to Mr. Lautner. Country-music lovers might be happy to know that Taylor Swift makes her first and quite possibly last big-screen appearance here. Maxim readers have two Jessicas, Alba (not bad) and Biel (not good), to pant after as well as Ms. Garner, who flashes her tight end. Movie lovers meanwhile can sigh at Ms. MacLaine and remember the good old glamorous days.
Tellingly, Julia Roberts serves the same function. Although she barely has anything to do, other than shove a lump down your throat during her shamelessly opportunistic segment, she plays an interesting extra-cinematic role in “Valentine’s Day” just by being the only genuine movie star in it. (Ms. MacLaine has emeritus status, while Mr. Foxx’s stardom flickers more than beams.) Ms. Roberts doesn’t need to swallow a picture whole with her smile to have an impact: just the sight of her inspires a certain longing. You could, you realize, be watching “My Best Friend’s Wedding” or even “Pretty Woman,” the Garry Marshall fantasy that made her a star and that most likely explains why she bothered with this sludge. (Ms. Roberts, no longer an ingénue, doesn’t need to play the happy hooker anymore.)
The absence of performers who hold the screen with beauty and the mystery of their personality partly accounts for why “Valentine’s Day” comes across like bad television, specifically an extended (and interwined) episode of “Love, American Style,” the anthology show (1969-74) that paved the way for the ensemble likes of “The Love Boat.” “Valentine’s Day” might have a more recognizable cast than an average episode of “Love, American Style,” but it’s grim grim grim. This might not be the Titanic of romantic comedies (it’s tugboat size), but it’s a disaster: cynically made, barely directed, terribly written. But quick: there’s still time to escape!
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