Made of Honour Review

You could be forgiven for thinking this was an Italian/American mob movie with guns and beatings such is the ambiguity if the title. But no, instead its the 387th romantic comedy of the year! Its the 152nd to centre around weddings! And lastly its the 93rd since I became single again. Each and every one a horrible painful reminder of the good and the bad times. Thanks for that Hollywood.

Tom (Patrick Dempsey) lives the life of Riley. I don't know who Riley is but he must have a good life if it competes with Tom's because he's disgustingly rich, has friends that actually listen to his problems and has women fawning over him at every step. He also has a best friend in the form of Hannah (Michelle Monaghan) who is the quintessential perfect woman. She is stunning to look at, she's smart and creative and best of all she is complicated. And for any cynics out there, they do exist. Tom only sees her as a friend until of course its too late then he has to win her back. And for any other optimists out there, the winning them back thing doesn't exist.

Coming from the 'you must be taking the piss' school of aptly named film companies, the makers of Made of Honour are called Originals Films. Which is pretty damn laughable when this is just a retread of My Best Friends Wedding crossed with that episode of Friends where Ross comes back from China with Julie. In fact the writers of Friends should be given even more syndication money because almost 90% of big screen romcoms at the moment steal plot devices from the hit show.

While it lacks any originality, coming off the back of that bloody Kutcher/Diaz bullshit, Made of Honour is one of the better films of its kind. Up there with 27 Dresses but it does lack the cross gender appeal of something like Knocked Up. At the end of the day its the type of movie that you watch with a loved one and you tolerate it, at times even slipping into enjoying it, but most of all you know it makes them happy. I watched it alone. Then walked home alone. To an empty bed. And wept. Send your sympathy on a postcard to, Mr. Douchebag...