Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Leap Year

I have a confession to make. Though I acknowledge that it is really and truly a horrible movie, this is my fourth time watching Leap Year. The plot may be lazy and contrived, the protagonist may be an insufferable caricature and the leading man’s Irish accent may be fake, but BOY is the scenery beautiful. And I’m not just talking about the Irish countryside! As a red-blooded American woman, it is the good looks of sirs Matthew Goode and Adam Scott that keep me coming back to this piece of garbage time and time again. So I may as well have a reasonable excuse for watching this time.

Without further ado, I give you...


The opening shot is a bit of a headscratcher (proving that this movie begins as it intends to go on). Amy Adams walks on a damp sidewalk strewn with dead leaves in a pair of fashionable heels. But... this is February, right? Like, that’s apparent from the title. The whole point of this movie is that it’s February during a leap year. Nice attention to detail, guys. Good grasp of the seasons of the year.

Anyhow, Amy Adams is breezing along in her power suit and admonishes some (possibly homeless) random dudes on the street for having their feet up on furniture in bubble wrap. Don’t ask me, I’m just the recapper.

She walks into what looks like a fairly run-of-the-mill bar, but seems very disgusted by her surroundings. That’s because she’s an uptight, super Type A “career woman,” as the movie takes great pains to establish.

We randomly jump back in time, for reasons I can’t discern, to Amy and her boyfriend, Adam Scott, interviewing with the Co-op Board of some super fancy schmancy apartment building called “The Davenport.”


Another jump in time, and honestly I don’t know if it’s forwards or backwards. This entire opening sequence is just a jumble of scenes attempting to establish Amy’s character without any chronology. In this bit, we see that she has made a career staging houses and apartments for realtors. And she is SO GOOD at her job. Because it’s all she cares about. As we see her at work, we hear her telling the stodgy Davenport Co-op people about it, sharing such gems as “Most people don’t know what it is they want until I show it to them.”

Back to the bar, where we get five seconds of Amy wet-wiping the counter and her hands. Would that there were a wet wipe big enough to wash off the shame of having been in this movie, Ms. Adams...

And now we’re at some sort of dress fitting, where Amy is once again micro-managing and being really bitchy to the dude hemming her dress. For example, she accuses him of sticking her on purpose. Though may he did. I would.

The Stodgy Co-op Board asks why they should choose her and Adam, out of the MILLIONS of people who are DYING to live at The Davenport and she gives a heartfelt speech about how she’s lived in Boston all her life and she has ALWAYS dreamed of living there.


The last scene of the scattered and frankly ridic opening sequence shows the end result of Amy’s latest apartment staging. The realtor is SO IMPRESSED with her work, and she tells him that he’ll have five offers by tomorrow.

The most heartbreaking moment of the movie occurs in this scene, when the screenwriting credits come up. That’s right. Deborah Kaplan and Harry Elfont, writers of two of my favorite teen movies (Can’t Hardly Wait and Josie and the Pussycats), are responsible for this monstrosity. Somewhere out there, an angel has lost its wings.

Amy and Adam Scott leave The Davenport and he starts rattling off all of the wonderful amenities or whatever. They both practically drool at the thought of a concierge and a swimming pool. Match made in heaven!

Adam goes to take a cell phone pic of Amy for no discernable reason, but has just received a picture message from a coworker updating him on somebody or other’s bypass surgery. Like a picture of the surgery in progress? Don’t ask me, I’m just the recapper. Anyway, this is all just a weird and convoluted way to establish that Adam Scott is a high-powered surgeon. I like him better as a caterer, myself.

The happy couple distractedly discusses their dinner plans and Adam’s preparations for some trip he’s going on tomorrow while also doodling around on their cell phones the entire time. Love in the 21st century, guys.

Adam tells Amy not to be late for their dinner reservation, and she quips that she’s never late. He points out that when her dad comes to visit, she’s late for stuff. That totally makes sense. They come up with the best ways to introduce plot points naturally into conversation in this movie. Adam sends her off, promising that their dinner is going to be special and that there will be some kind of surprise. Amy gets a slightly deranged glint in her eye.

Now we go back to Amy’s dress fitting, and I seriously could not tell you whether this takes place before or after the conversation that just happened. Some friend of hers comes running into the room to tell her that she saw Adam coming out of a jewelry store carrying a bag. Which obviously means that he is going to propose. She has Amy practice looking surprised by his proposal to “hilarious” effect.


So anyway, now Amy is at the SUPER GROSS but actually totally normal and above-average-in-the-cleanliness-department bar. Some random guy goes up to her and says “Can I marry you?” which, I mean, come on, ladies. This shit happens to us every day, am I right? She says “No thanks” and he asks if she’s already married. She tells him that she’s getting engaged, which is totally the only reason a woman could possibly refuse a man’s proposal. This movie is like, practically a documentary. Verisimilitude out the wazoo. This totally normal interaction ends when John Lithgow walks in. He is Amy’s surprisingly scruffy dad.

He apparently overheard her telling the stranger about her engagement, because he gets really excited and orders some champagne. EXPOSITION TIME! Dad asks where Adam is, and Amy tells him that he’s packing for a “cardiology convention” in Dublin. Dad says it’s a good thing that Adam finally proposed to her after four years, otherwise she would have had to propose to him, which of course is awful and shameful. But, he says, it IS leap year. Apparently back in yesteryear, his grandma was sick of waiting for her boyfriend to propose, so they went on a trip to Ireland on leap day and she proposed to him. Because there is an Ancient Irish Tradition that it’s ok for ladies to propose to their fellas on leap day. Any other day, they probably get stoned to death.

After conversing with her father for literally 45 seconds, Amy says she has to go because it’s time for her Very Special Dinner with Adam.

At the restaurant, they have a totally normal conversation about how they both want the same things, and even with their crazy schedules Amy always manages to figure things out for them. Adam tells her that he appreciates it, and hands her a jewelry box. Amy is like “ALL OF MY DREAMS ARE ABOUT TO COME TRUE! IAMPEEINGMYPANTS.COM!” But OH NO! It’s a pair of simple diamond earrings. WHAT AN ASSHOLE.

Amy is so disappointed, but luckily Adam is distracted by more picture texts of open heart surgery, which he thoughtfully shows to her. How romantic!

Adam gets called to urgent surgery matters (via a text message that tries and fails to make the word “aorta” stand in for “oughtta”; these guys are pros) and will be going straight to the airport after he’s finished.

That night, Amy tosses and turns in bed. While staring at the evil earrings on the bedside table, she remembers what her dad said about ladies proposing to their boyfriends on leap day. She decides to Google it to make sure her dad wasn’t just making shit up, and in case anybody in the audience is a total moron, they have her read an article about it aloud to herself while watching a video of an Irish woman proposing to an Irish man, and they also literally replay John Lithgow’s entire speech about it from the bar scene on top of everything. WE GET IT.

Faced with such inspiring Google search results, she decides to go for it, packs some clothes in her pristine Louis Vuitton suitcase and hops a plane. Because this is just what life is like, guys. Impromptu vacations take no planning and have ZERO consequences.

On the plane, Amy sits next to an Irish priest who asks if she’s traveling for business or pleasure. She tells him about her proposal plan. He expresses polite interest, so she spends the rest of the flight boring the shit out of him with the story of her relationship with Adam. He finally falls asleep when she starts trying to show him apartment floorplans.

Suddenly, the plane flies into a crazy looking storm. Everybody panics, and Amy offers up this gem:


The flight is diverted to Wales, because the storm is SO BIG that the Dublin airport is closed. Amy isn’t having any of it, because she is on a schedule. Hey, do you think Amy is a control freak? Is that what they’re trying to tell us?

At the airport in Cardiff, some airline workers tell Amy that there won’t be any flights until tomorrow. She explains that she’s going to propose to her boyfriend and needs to buy a dress, so clearly she just CAN’T wait until tomorrow. This is urgent business. Shockingly, the workers are unmoved. Now, I know that Amy is being really ridic about this, but the airline workers are way over-the-top bitchy to her about it and openly mock her.

I just want to take a moment here to mention that I really don’t understand the timeline of this movie. Aside from the fact that February was looking pretty autumnal back in Boston, Amy seems to be in a HUGE hurry at this point, but spoiler alert: her upcoming travails are going to set her back several entire DAYS, and she still makes it to Dublin by the 29th. Sorry to ruin the suspense. But like… what the f? This would never have happened in Josie and the Pussycats.

Unable to fly, she takes a bus to the ferry, but learns that the ferry isn’t running because of the weather. She then HIRES A RICKETY FISHING BOAT to take her through The Perfect CGI Storm.


Halfway through the trip, the captain informs her that though he promised to take her to Cork, he can only get her as far as Dingle. And I will freely admit that as a stupid ignorant American I would not have thought twice about that statement unless I had read the IMDB trivia for this movie: “Rather incongruously, Anna hitches a boat ride from Wales to Dingle which is over on Ireland's Atlantic coast.”

Having looked into this, I have drawn up a handy Map of Geographic WTF-ery. It is too large to fit on this page, so please view it here.

She gets dropped off nowhere near a dock, so I can only assume that she swam partway to shore. Her fancy stilettos get stuck in the sand as she watches the fishing boat sail away. What is it with ladies wearing stilettos on flights in these movies anyway? Is that one of those things where I just don’t understand what women actually do, like when people look at me sideways because I’ve never had a manicure or a massage? Whatever. I call bullshit.

Since her dangerous boat trip has only gotten her as far as Dingle (so only many, many miles in the opposite direction of her destination), she heads into town to find a way to get to Dublin. She finds a charming looking pub, which is empty aside from a few old men at the bar, and the improbably hot bartender, also known as The Fox List 2011’s #1 Hottest Man, Matthew Goode.

She asks if there’s a bus to Dublin, and one old man unhelpfully tells her that the last bus to Dublin left in 1987. Another old guy chimes in to argue about the year, and Amy just doesn’t have time to dilly-dally so she goes up to Matthew Goode and asks if there’s a taxi service. He hands her a phone number, and she tries to use her cell phone. Because this is a movie, her battery is dead. She has to use the pay phone instead.

She calls and asks for a taxi to Dublin, and the man on the other end tells her that they don’t drive American redheads. She’s like “Huh? What?” and then sees that it’s Matthew Goode, just fucking with her for no reason! Everybody has a good laugh at her expense. Matthew tells her that Dublin blows and he wouldn’t drive her there for a million bucks. Except he says this in “charming Irish parlance,” as envisioned by American writers.


Somehow this leads to the old men making crass jokes about selling their wives. How charming?

Amy asks if anyone else will help her, but unfortunately they’re all super old and stone cold drunk. She decides to find somebody in the morning, and asks where the nearest hotel is. And of course, she’s already in it!

Matthew shows Amy to her room, and she makes an unfavorable comparison to the Four Seasons. She mentions that she’s feeling peckish and asks if the kitchen is open. It isn’t, so Amy says, and I quote: “But given the famous Irish tradition of hospitality and generosity...”

Instead of telling her to stop trying to tell Irish people about fake Irish traditions, he tells her he’ll make her a sandwich.

After Matthew heads off to the kitchen, she looks around for an outlet. She can’t reach the one behind the bed, so she tries to move the bed and of course manages to break something and knock over a bureau in the process, so that its contents spill everywhere. She jostles something else, and takes down a lamp and a glass bottle falls to the floor. Somehow, this causes a veritable SHITLOAD of dust to fall in the bar downstairs. This is not a thing that happens in real life! I mean, seriously, was there a tub of dirt hanging precariously from the ceiling?


Although she is a presumably well-educated, cultured and successful young woman, it is apparently news to her that the outlets are different in Ireland, and she tries to plug in her phone charger. Surprise! Lights out for everybody. What a stupid American! Hardy har har. Matthew has a more enlightened reaction, and mutters “Women!” to himself.

Amy either had a flashlight strapped to her utility belt or found one immediately, because she starts snooping around and finds a picture of Matthew with a pretty blonde and some dude. She seems totally shocked that he has ever hung out with people in his life.

Matthew comes in and sees the damage and snatches the picture away from her, saying that it’s personal. She complains that he fried her BlackBerry, which, um… no. You fried your own BlackBerry, lady. Admitting it is the first step. He calls her an idiot and she calls him a jackass. At least one of them is justified. Ok, maybe both.

The next morning, Amy calls Adam to tell him that she’s in Ireland and to complain about how awful everything is. She tells him that she should be in Dublin by this afternoon. Spoiler alert: she won’t. He makes no mention of the fact that she’s being a real creeper, and says he’s excited to see her.

Outside, Matthew is arguing with someone about paying a loan on his kitchen or something. He asks if he can have another month, and the man tells him he’ll give him a week to pay him 1,000 Euro, or he loses the whole place. The wheels in Matthew’s head start spinning.

He goes barging into Amy’s room while she’s getting dressed and says “Come on, then, let’s do it. But only ‘cause you’re desperate.” Not a great thing to say to a mostly-naked lady, though I’m not going to pretend I wouldn’t be all about it. Unfortunately for her, he just means that he’ll give her a ride after all. For 500 Euro. Plus 100 Euro for room and board/repairs.

Ten minutes later, she’s all dressed in a smart outfit and perfectly-coiffed. Don’t ask me how that’s possible, especially without a hairdryer. I’m just a humble recapper.

She disses his car and makes him handle her luggage. Because he is just a simple Irish rube, he doesn’t understand how to work the retractable handle on her suitcase. Amy is like “Be careful. My hunky hunky boyfriend gave that to me. It’s a Louis Vuitton!” He finds this EXTREMELY amusing and starts talking to the suitcase, calling it “Louis.” Spoiler alert: though this was actually slightly charming, it loses its charm as it becomes a running gag throughout the rest of the movie.

Some of the old guys from the night before tell Amy that she can’t start a trip because she walked past a black cat. They argue about how many years of bad luck that means, and she’s just like “Fuck luck. I’m out of here. Later!”

As they drive away, one of the men says “I’ll tell you something... they’ll kill each other!” We should be so lucky.

They begin their drive through the picturesque Irish countryside. Amy sort of clears up the timeline issues by saying that it’s February 27th. So yesterday, the 26th, she was getting histrionic about needing to get a flight to Dublin that day. So she was expecting to bum around Dublin for three days before surprising Adam? Oh right, she needed to buy a dress first.


Matthew is being such a jag. He refuses to engage her in conversation, eats a huge sandwich while driving, belches emphatically, and puts on some loud rock and roll.

Amy mentions that she might get to do some shopping today if they make good enough time. Matthew asks if she’s going to Dublin just to shop. So now, congratulations, your dreams have come true. We get to hear Amy’s proposal plan for the 80th time. Matthew finds it ludicrous, of course, and tells her it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. He sums it up thusly: “It’s a day for desperate women trying to trap themselves a man who clearly doesn’t want to get married.” If you’re beginning to suspect that this movie is just going to be an hour and forty-five minutes of these guys trying to out-asshole each other, spoiler alert: you’re right. Case in point: Matthew takes way too much delight in laughing in Amy’s face, so she throws his sandwich out the window. He retaliates by turning the music up really loud. She turns it off. He turns it back on. She ejects the tape and throws it out the window. Seriously. The Asshole Olympics.


Matthew stops the car to retrieve his cassette tape, and Amy accuses him of being a bitter, lonely cynic. He responds by doing an insulting impression of her while doing a jig and clicking his heels.

While they were fighting, an entire herd of cows somehow walked into the middle of the road without them noticing. Amy is appalled that Matthew just wants to wait for them to move, and takes matters into her own hands by yelling at the cows until they get so annoyed that they leave. He says it must be her repellant personality. And then laughs when she steps in a cowpat. There is a tragic short film somewhere in this movie about expensive shoes getting ruined by nature.

Amy leans against the car to take her shoes off, and accidentally pushes it down a hill. Matthew flips out and repeatedly yells out “Baby! Baby!” before attempting to jump on the hood. The car somehow lands in a pond. Amy, not seeming particularly concerned that she just destroyed Matthew’s car, retrieves her suitcase and starts walking in the general direction of Dublin. Matthew is afraid he’s going to lose out on the money, so he follows her.

After they’ve been walking for a while, a shitty looking van pulls up. The driver offers her a ride, and though Matthew warns her not to get in, she’s like “Peace out!” The driver gets out and greets her, takes her suitcase, puts it in the van and drives off right in the middle of her smug speech to Matthew about how she doesn’t need his help anymore. Amy just can’t believe what assholes Irish people are.

She and Matthew eventually make their way to a little bar in the middle of nowhere, and Amy says she’s going to call a real taxi. While she waits to use the pay phone, she notices that the thieves just happen to be in the next room. One of them is playing with her bra. Another has her panties on his head. This movie is a really strong endorsement for Irish men, I tell ya.

Amy tries to reclaim her stuff, but the men cluster menacingly around her. Matthew comes in and finally demonstrates that he sort of has a heart by telling the guys to give Amy her stuff back. They don’t take too kindly to the suggestion, and one of them punches him in the face. Matthew holds his own in the bar fight, and Amy helps by throwing a beer in someone’s face. After Matthew single-handedly beats down four dudes at once, Amy is clearly super turned on (because come on ladies, we all love violence), but she just says that it was “impressive.”

They get kicked out of the bar and have to continue on foot. Matthew remarks that her boyfriend must be special for her to go to all this trouble, and all she can say about him is that he’s a cardiologist. This kills the conversation, and they continue in silence.

Eventually they reach a train station. The man at the ticket counter tells them it’ll be three hours until the next train. Then something happens which I really can’t seem to understand no matter how hard I try, because it is almost too ridic for this epically ridic movie. The man tells Amy that it’s “a few bob to Dublin.” She doesn’t understand his charming Irish slang, so he spells out to her that he means money. She then looks surprised and annoyed that she’ll have to pay for the train tickets? I think that it what is happening? And she looks accusingly at Matthew, as though he tricked her? Like back in Boston she always rides the train for free or something? Somebody please explain this to me. No human would ever... Ok. I need to stop. This scene is giving me a headache.

MOVING ON. Amy and Matthew sit on a bench outside the station to wait for the train, and Matthew points out a castle on a hill that apparently they haven’t noticed until this moment, even though it is towering over the landscape and they arrived here on foot. He says it’s one of the “wonders of Ireland,” and goes to climb up to it. Amy says she’ll stay behind, and tries to play with the random dog sitting by the bench. Apparently the dog has good pain-in-the-ass radar, because he immediately tries to bite her. She runs after Matthew, saying “Wait! I love castles” in the most dispassionate voice a chirpy lady like Amy Adams can muster.

As they walk up the hill, Matthew says he’s sorry that she won’t get to Dublin in time to go shopping, and she snaps that she has other interests. She tells him about her job, and just when you think they’re starting to be friends, he calls her a con artist. Because people don’t get to keep the stuff that she put in the apartment to get them to buy it. She takes umbrage to this and accuses him of only seeing the worst in people. He awkwardly segues into asking her what she would save if her house was on fire and she only had 60 seconds. She refuses to answer, and he refuses to answer when she asks him.

They make it to the castle, and Matthew tells the romantic story of how once upon a time there was some chick and she was promised in marriage to some old d-bag but she fell in love with this warrior hottie so they drugged everybody and escaped and people throughout the country hid them in their houses. Unfortunately, the warrior had a crisis of conscience about banging the chick because of reasons that are not really explained, so they just chastely cuddled every night or something. Eventually they came to the very castle in which Matthew and Amy now stand, and were so overcome by the beauty of the view that they finally Did It.

Amy is like “WHOA-MG, Matthew, you are totes hitting on me via folklore right now you slimy bastard.”


Matthew scoffs at her and calls her an arrogant American, as though it’s the worst insult he can possibly think of.

Apparently it took them over two hours to climb the hill, because just as some rain starts up they hear the train whistle in the distance. This movie’s concept of time is truly bonkers. They go running down the hill, Amy barefoot with her heels in hand shouting about how she has a ticket. And of course she ends up falling down and landing in a puddle of mud. Another pair of shoes bites the dust. She refuses to let Matthew help her up, and tells him she hates him.

They watch the train pull away, and Amy starts hyperventilating. The man from the ticket counter tells her to cheer up, and takes the two to his home, which he calls the “best little B&B in Tipperary” but which I like to call the Crash Pad of Contrivance. His wife greets them and tells them how lucky they are because she just turned away two backpackers because they weren’t married. HOW SCANDALOUS. Instead of explaining that they are not only not a couple, but in fact hate each other, they pretend to be married.

When asked what their name is, they each say their own last name and somehow raise no suspicion when they explain that Amy is just a stupid American who can only remember part of her new name (because they are newlyweds, of course), and that they are the O’Bradycallaghans. Totally normal name. Totally real.

I want to take a moment and commiserate with Matthew Goode, who, according to IMDB trivia, admitted in an interview that this movie was terrible and that he only did it so he would be an easy flying distance from London. Though this entire movie is garbage, this whole sequence must have been really personally painful for him because it is lifted wholesale from the movie Chasing Liberty. Where he and Mandy Moore escape from the secret service by telling a gondolier in Venice that they are newlyweds so that he’ll put them up in his house, and then they have to share a bedroom and it’s like sooooo awkward. The only difference is that in Chasing Liberty, Mandy Moore has the sense to have the hots for Matthew Goode and tries to seduce him, whereas here Amy Adams just calls him cutesy pet names in a sarcastic voice.

Once shown to their bedroom, Amy and Matthew argue over who gets to sleep in the bed. Amy says it’s not very gallant of him to try to take the bed for himself, and he makes some sexist comment about how if women want to vote, they have to live in the age of equality. Eventually they decide to flip for it, and Matthew tricks her by saying “Heads I win, tails you lose.” She actually falls for this. Ugh.

Amy goes to take a shower and sings to herself, not realizing that the shower curtain is pretty much see-through. Matthew just sits and enjoys the show because he is gross. By the end of the shower, Amy has figured out that he tricked her with the coin toss. She claims the bed for herself and tells him to take a shower because he smells bad. He tells her that the curtain is see-through with a gross, smug look on his face, but agrees to let her have the bed.


Their hostess comes up to let them know that she’s serving tripe for dinner, and Amy has a CLASSIC culture clash moment when she learns that tripe is cow’s stomach. Matthew saves the day by offering to cook as a thank-you for letting them stay.

Outside in the vegetable garden, Amy picks carrots for the meal and worries about whether they’re the right size. Because she is a control freak or whatever. Matthew teases her about it and tells her to have a little faith that things will work out. Then shit gets real when Amy tells him about how her dad, John Lithgow, always said things would work out when he invested in dumb things like timeshares and “mobile video stores,” whatevertf that is, and lost all their money. And then she had to work two jobs after school and their house got repossessed on Christmas Eve. AREN’T YOU ASHAMED OF YOURSELF NOW, MATTHEW? He actually sincerely apologizes because we’re fifty minutes into the movie and it’s time for the ice to start thawing. Also maybe because he saw her naked earlier.

He spoils the convivial mood by asking her if she’s a vegetarian, and when she says no, abruptly murdering a chicken right in front of her. He gives her a hard time about it, like “Didn’t you ever wonder where chickens come from?” and basically shames her into not being mad. And then they have a flirty cooking montage.

Later, they sit around the dinner with their host and hostess and an Italian couple who are also staying at the Crash Pad of Contrivance. Everybody is enjoying the meal, and according to my closed-captioning, they “all exclaim in content.” The Italians compliment the chicken, and Amy almost blows their super-sneaky cover by saying that Adam always tells her she makes chicken too dry. Everybody’s like “Adam? Whotf is Adam? What kind of tomfoolery is this?” They cover by saying that Adam is their neighbor who they have over for dinner sometimes. Matthew takes the opportunity to make fun of Adam, saying that he has learning difficulties and tells everyone he’s a cardiologist. Everybody is like “LOL.”

Another awkward segue: Matthew asks if the table is an antique, and the host says yes, it was a wedding present. His wife says it’s only been 44 years, and they kiss. It’s so romantic that the Italian man gives a speech about how kissing is what keeps a marriage going, and that you should always kiss like it’s the first time and the last time. He then makes out with his wife in front of everybody for an uncomfortably long time. I bet you can guess what’s coming next. Everybody starts nagging Amy and Matthew to kiss! Oh no! But they hate each other and it’s all just a ruse :(

Eventually Matthew caves and kisses Amy on the cheek. But everybody else is just not having it. They have to have a REAL kiss, because that is something that all B&B owners INSIST on when they have guests at the dinner table. It is an Ancient Irish Tradition, I bet. When the host actually yells “DAMMIT, MAN, KISS THE GIRL!” Matthew finally kisses her, and of course it starts out stilted and fakey but ends up hot and heavy. Realizations, y’all.

This whole scene was weird and creepy and full of old people making out with each other.

That night, Matthew is like “I can’t sleep in the shower Amy it’s too wet! Frowny face! There’s certainly not a perfectly good floor next to the bed that I can sleep on!” So Amy caves and lets him crawl into bed with her. Their pillow talk revolves around Amy complaining about how long it’s taking to get to Dublin, and Matthew telling her that he’ll have to charge her more for the extra time. They haggle about the price, and reach a total of 675 Euro. Amy says “Fine, if it’s all about money to you, then 675 it is.” What else is it about for him? The pleasant company? A trip to a city he clearly hates? Amy has some truly weird ideas about how the world works.

After awkwardly lying in silence and making perplexed faces for a while (“I’m having feelings!” “Life is so confusing!” “I have the weirdest boner!”), they go to sleep with their backs to each other.

By morning, they’re ALMOST spooning. I mean, you could fit a whole other person between them, but his hand is on her arm. I repeat. HIS HAND. IS ON. HER ARM.


Before they hit the road again, Amy calls Adam and says the trip has been the worst. He’s like “Worse than when our luggage got lost in Barbados LOL? #firstworldproblems” He cheers her up by telling her that he just heard that they got the apartment. THE DAVENPORT! The American Dream. Matthew overhears the conversation and gazes wistfully into the distance.

A little bit later, their host joins them in the kitchen, asks how they slept with a lascivious twinkle in his creepy eye, and asks what’s on the agenda for the day. Um, guy? Remember how they ended up staying with you? Because they missed the train? They are trying to go to Dublin, duh-doy! Amy tells him as much, and he tells her that she can’t go because it’s Sunday and the trains aren’t running. She asks if he’ll drive her, saying that she’ll pay him a lot of money, but LOLOLOLOLOL his wife has the car. She took it to Dublin to go shopping. If I were Amy, I would straight up punch this guy in the face right now.

Amy and Matthew set off on foot AGAIN, looking for the bus station. Amy thinks Matthew is throwing rocks at the back of her head, but nope, it’s just a surprise hailstorm. They run for shelter and find a church, which they burst into in the middle of a wedding ceremony.

Apparently they burst in right when the priest was asking if anybody had any objections. HOW HILARIOUS. Because of the ancient Irish tradition of hospitality and generosity, they’re invited to stay for the reception.

Amy gushes about how beautiful the reception is, and Matthew says he hates weddings. She says “GOD you have such a bad attitude, Matthew, and your opinions are soooo random and you have CLEARLY never been engaged.” But you’re wrong, Amy. He HAS been engaged. He doesn’t elaborate, because the bride starts giving a touching toast about how much she loves her new husband. It’s very saccharine, but it brings a tear to Matthew’s eye. He gets up and walks away.

Amy follows him and asks what’s wrong. He gets annoyed and calls the leap day engagement thing “a load of poo.” Amy says it’s not a load of poo, it’s romantic, and heads back to the reception. But her feathers are clearly ruffled.

Back in the reception tent there’s music and dancing, but Amy is soooo sad. You might even say she’s feeling blue.


Matthew strolls up and asks her to dance, and actually says “Do you never let your hair down?” LAZY WRITING. Excuse me while I go watch Josie and the Pussycats to remind myself that these people have talent.

They join in some kind of group dance and are having a GREAT TIME. In fact, they’re having such a great time that Amy starts dancing with a guy who picks her up and spins her around until her shoes flies off and HITS THE BRIDE IN THE FACE. I liked this gag much better when that girl hit Tai on the head with her clog in Clueless while they were rollin’ with the homies.

The bride, who now has an ugly welt on her face, takes it in stride and says it’s ok. And then offers this horrifying line, said with a giggle: “At least it wasn’t my husband.” GEEEEEEEEEEZ.

Amy is pretty crunk at this point, and she thinks this joke is SO hilarious that it causes her to spill champagne all over the wedding dress. She decides that’s her cue to leave, so she and Matthew go sit by a pond in the moonlight? I don’t know. Earlier one of them mentioned that the priest was going to give them a ride to the bus station after the reception, but it’s the middle of the night now so who knows what they’re even doing. I’m just the recapper.

Amy drunkenly tells Matthew that he’s a “beast” and she can’t stand him, which is less convincing because she’s moving in closer and closer. But she says it’s all just an act, and that he is in pain. And let me guess, only the love of a good woman could cure him? She closes by saying he’s like a lion with a thorn in his paw, “A lovely, lovely lion.” She goes in for the kiss but ends up ralphing on his shoes instead. Classic fakeout. Matthew picks her up and apparently carries her all the way to the bus station (which, Amy said earlier, is four miles away), because when she wakes up in the morning they’re sitting on a bench in town.

Matthew is still asleep, so Amy puts his jacket on him like a blanket, and wheels her suitcase away. Oh nooooooooooooooooo! She’s leaving him now? After all they’ve been through? What is she thinking???? Oh right, he’s a dickbag and she’s about to go get engaged to her equally douchey boyfriend. I think I just realized that I don’t care what happens to any of the characters in this movie.

Matthew wakes up and sees the bus pulling away and is SO SAD that Amy has left him. But SURPRISE! Amy was just buying coffee! As she leaves the store, she sees him watching the bus and pining for her. Her heart is all kinds of warmed.

She goes up and gives him the coffee, saying that he can deduct it from her bill. He says she owes him for a new pair of shoes and calls her “Pukey.” She does an imitation of him saying “Put them in the wash, they’ll be grand” (which is what he said when she stepped in cow shit two days ago) and sadly her terrible fake Irish accent is not even that much worse than his.

They catch the next bus, and of course Amy falls asleep with her head on his shoulder. Do you think these crazy kids are finally going to get together? Spoiler alert: Who gives a shit?

They FINALLY reach Dublin after three days of bullshit and contrivance, and Amy arranges to meet Adam at his hotel when he gets back from his important cardiology convention activities. They decide to walk to the hotel through some picturesque gardens, and Amy asks if Matthew’s former fiancĂ©e is in Dublin, and deduces that she’s the blonde in the photo she saw while snooping back in Dingle. He tells her his own “shit gets real” sob story about how he and his ex and his friend all ran the pub together but then his evil friend evilly stole his girlfriend and they moved to Dublin. And if Matthew could save one thing in a fire, it would be his mother’s claddagh ring. But sadly, he gave it to that evil backstabbing bitch. This is how I imagine it having gone down:


Amy tells him that he should get it back from her while he’s in town. They flirt with each other for a while and then continue on their way.

At the hotel, they start to say their goodbyes but are clearly loathe to part because they’re in true love now or whatever. Amy tries to pay him, but he refuses. WHAT? His entire livelihood depends on getting that money from her, as you may recall, but he’s going to refuse it and go home and let her marry Adam and feel double-wistful about all the women he’s loved and lost while whiling away his days in the unemployment line? This movie. My god.

He wishes her luck, says a fond goodbye to her suitcase, and suddenly Amy looks SO distraught. Matthew turns and goes back to her, but at that moment, Adam comes strolling in looking like a real doofus. And this is coming from someone who crowned Adam Scott #1 on The Fox List 2012. Adam thanks Matthew for getting Amy to Dublin and calls him “bro.”


As Matthew turns to go, Adam surprises us all by getting down on one knee and proposing to Amy. But he asks her in the least romantic words ever: “Why aren’t we married? Um… will you marry me?” Also, there is somebody filming them which is so gross. I always say, if anybody ever proposed to me in public I would punch them in the face, or just say no on principle. Or both.

Matthew looks on from across the room, obviously heartbroken to see such a prize of a human being slipping through his fingers. And then he leaves, and Amy says yes.

It would be kind of amazing if the movie ended here, but spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

Matthew arranges to meet up with his evil cheating ex. She meets him at a pub and says she never thought she would see him in Dublin.

Since he doesn’t have the money from Amy, Matthew is having some kind of last-minute fundraiser at the pub with all the locals. The guy he owes money to comes to collect, and is a real jerk about him being a little short. But then all the old drunks from the beginning chip in and they reach their goal. DRINKS ON THE HOUSE!

Amy and Adam are having an engagement party at their AMAZING new apartment. A really scary looking super blonde, super tan lady says she wants to throw Amy out the window so she can take her awesome apartment. I am not even making that up. She actually says that. Then, some smarmy looking guy comments to Adam that Amy would have been happy with just the apartment, and he didn’t really have to propose. This causes Adam to share the very special story of how he knew that the Co-op board wouldn’t give them the apartment if they weren’t at least engaged because of their old-fashioned morals or something, so he told them they were about to get engaged and filmed the proposal to prove it. He really softens the blow by saying things like “And I thought, ‘Why the hell not? We would’ve gotten around to it eventually!’” What a guy. But no worse than Amy, really. This is a true meeting of the jackasses.

Amy is so overwhelmed by what a jerk Adam is and how sad and empty her glamorous life really is or whatever rich people get upset about, and she actually PULLS THE FIRE ALARM. IN HER APARTMENT. Adam goes, “The fire alarm? REALLY?” Leave the incredulity to me, bro.

Adam goes to grab the most important things to save during a fire, mostly laptops and gadgets and things. To put the cherry on top of the beating-a-dead-horse-insofar-as-Adam’s-douchiness-is-concerned sundae, he grabs the video camera, because he hasn’t put the proposal on Facebook yet. This is the last straw for Amy.


She makes the trip back to Dingle, this time minus the tidal waves and major electrical storms, to tell Matthew how she feels.

At the pub, one of Matthew’s employees comes to the kitchen and tells him that a customer is complaining that the chicken is dry. I WONDER WHO IT COULD BE??? Matthew is soooo angry that somebody is casting aspersions on his genius cooking that he goes out into the bar and asks the room at large who is complaining about the chicken. Amy proudly calls out “It was me LOLOL!”

He asks what she’s doing there and if Adam is with her, and she’s like “No dummy, we broke up. Also, I like you do you like me check yes or no!” She proposes that they not make plans and give their love a chance, because she is FINALLY done being such a control freak. Matthew doesn’t say anything but walks out of the room, leaving Amy crushed. It would be kind of amazing if the movie ended here, but alas, it does not.

Amy is so distraught that she runs out to the cliffs to gaze out at the sea or something. Just when you’re hoping that the movie has a twist ending involving Amy jumping to her death, Matthew sneaks up behind her and says “Mrs. O’Bradycallaghan, where the hell are you going?” It turns out he just went to find his mother’s claddagh ring to give to her. He says he rejects her proposal. He doesn’t want to fly by the seat of his pants. He wants to MARRY HER. She says “In all my life, I never expected to see you down on one knee.” Uh, Amy, don’t you mean in all the three weeks or however long since you met him? She says yes of course, because duh, who doesn’t want to marry some asshole they met like 20 minutes ago? The old bar patrons creepily look on while they make out, and make comments about it being a bad day to get engaged and other nonsense.

But it’s not over yet. We end with Amy and Matthew sitting in his crappy car, reminiscing about when they hated each other, bickering a little bit, making some jokes about the gd suitcase, and finally driving off to begin their honeymoon. And we’re all left to hope that at least they don’t bring any asshole children into this world.