I Hate Valentine's Day Blu-ray offers solid video and decent audio, but overall it's a disappointing Blu-ray release
Meet Genevieve. She loves romance. She loves flowers. She loves Valentine's Day. All of
which is fitting as the owner of "Roses for Romance," a quaint flower shop in the heart of a
friendly Brooklyn, NY neighborhood. Her one problem is that she hates relationships. Having
been hurt numerous times in the past when it comes to matters of the heart, Genevieve keeps
herself happy by not letting any one man in. Dating is a game to her, a game she is very good
at. Genevieve doesn't get dumped and never gets hurt because she doesn't stick around long
enough for things to get ugly. Then she meets Greg...
If there's one thing that's worse than a bad romantic comedy, it's a bad seasonal rom-com,
the kind that gets trundled out perennially around Christmas and Valentine's Day along with all the
chocolates, greeting cards, and other mawkish accoutrements of supposed holiday cheer that get
foisted upon us by industries exploiting our most tender feelings. No, I'm not some stonyhearted,
emotionally constipated cynic sneering at lovers passing by with their hands entwined; I just
happen to think there's nothing less romantic than soulless, pre-packaged sentiment, especially
when it takes the form of a rigidly formulaic rom-com. Now, there's nothing expressly wrong with
sticking to a formula. The very notion of comedy, tragedy, and romance as literary and cinematic
genres implies an expected trajectory and an adherence to certain rules. Like jazz, though, it's all
about the improvisation, throwing in slight variations and unexpected notes. And nothing about
I
Hate Valentine's Day is even mildly unexpected.
Genevieve and Greg are as disappointed with this modern art as I am with this movie.
The film stars, and was written and directed by Nia Vardalos, whose Big Fat Greek
Wedding was the sleeper indie hit of 2002—grossing an unheard of $400 million worldwide—
proving quite emphatically that romantic comedies don't have to be big-budget studio affairs, and
that "ethnic" stories can be popular with mainstream cinemagoers. Much was also made of
Vardalos' decidedly plus-sized physique, a refreshing contrast to Hollywood's abundance of twiggy
ingénues with their gaunt cheeks and heroin-addict arms. And she truly was a fresh face in a
genre that had gone long-since stale. Since 2002, however, Vardalos has shed the pounds, and
her homespun charm—and box-office allure—has vanished as well. Her subsequent films have
been successively worse, both critically and commercially, from 2004's slip-up Connie and
Carla, to her one-two punch of rom-com awfulness in 2009 with My Life in Ruins—
which could have been called My Career in Ruins—and I Hate Valentine's Day, a
generic love story that reunites Vardalos with her Greek Wedding co-star John Corbett.
Vardalos plays Genevieve, a free-spirited florist with some peculiar ideas about 21st century
relationships. "When the romance is gone, it's time to move on," is her rhyming love-life
philosophy, and she's got dating down to an exact science. "Five dates," she says, "happens to be
the perfect amount of time to achieve maximum fun with no pain. No expectations equals no
disappointment. It's just fun, and there are no rules." Of course, Genevieve is blind to the fact
that her five-date limit is a rule, and that her c'est la vie attitude is actually a
front for the distrust she feels toward men after her no-good dad cheated on her poor mom. It
goes without saying—this is a rom-com after all—that some handsome single suitor will come
knocking on the defenses of her carefully guarded heart, eventually tearing down the emotional
barricades after 98 minutes of exasperation, miscommunication, and a sour cream dollop of cute
'n' quirky comedy. That man is Greg (John Corbett), an attorney-turned-restaurateur who's
opening a tapas bar in the same Brooklyn neighborhood as Genevieve's flower shop. The name of
the bar? "Get On Tapas." Get it? Hilarious. Almost as good as the Vietnamese place I used to
frequent called "What the Pho?" Anyway, Genevieve and Greg have their one-two-three-four-five
romantic outings, and they both want more, but she's stuck on her five-date cap, and he's not
sure what she really wants, and both of them refuse to call each other and…snoozers!
Make sure someone wakes you up when it's over, or else the film will return to the Blu-ray menu
and its obnoxiously cloying music.
And so Genevieve learns all the usual lessons about letting go of the past and
opening her heart to the possibilities of love et cetera, et cetera, while we suffer through
jokes that fall flatter than Wile E. Coyote and performances that will cause even the most
sympathetic audiences to suck air through their teeth in sudden winces of pain. Take, for
instance, the actors playing the gay men who work for Genevieve's flower shop, who labor under
the pretense that portrayals of homosexuals must adhere to the broadest stereotypes that
heterosexual minds can muster. I wouldn't have been surprised if one of them started belting out
a Judy Garland song while the other danced with a feather boa. The rest of the surrounding cast
is a menagerie of forgettable kooks, led by Gary Wilmes as Greg's meathead law-school chum Cal,
and the always-unsettling Rachel Dratch, who looks a bit like one of those prematurely aging
children and acts like an alien who learned human by watching beamed-into-outer-space
episodes of Laverne & Shirley. John Corbett does his usual laid-back, man's man with a
sensitive side shtick, and Nia Vardalos forces a pained and ceaseless smile throughout, like a
third-place Miss America contestant waving farewell to the crowd. With three consecutive
cinematic misses under her belt—which has been cinched a few notches since 2002—waving
goodbye is exactly what Vardalos seems to be doing.
When you think "romantic comedy" and "cinematography," you probably imagine overly bright,
slightly unnatural lighting—the better to see our stars' faces with—and a bold, bubbly color palette.
Well, add your conception of "low budget" to that combo, and you have I Hate Valentine's
Day's visual aesthetic, which tries to emulate the look of more expensive rom-coms, but has a
distinctly "made for TV" appearance. That said, this 1080p/AVC-encoded transfer makes the most of
the film's meager budget, with a look that's surprisingly sharp and appropriately colorful. Overall
clarity is better than expected, with texture amply evident in the actors' clothing, while faces display
a good deal of fine detail. Unsurprisingly, red figures prominently in the pleasantly saturated color
scheme, but blues and purples also stand out nicely. Black levels are adequately deep as well—with
good shadow delineation—and contrast is tight. Topping off the image is a warm and thin speckling
of grain, which only spikes during a few wide "New York cityscape" shots that are obviously stock
footage. Aside from some minor brightness flickering—occasionally apparent when a character is
against a flat, solid color background—I didn't notice any overt transfer issues or compression-
related problems. This might not be the prettiest Valentine's Day card that was sent to Blu-ray this
year, but it's the thought that counts.
I have no idea what kind of overlap exists between hardcore audiophiles and people who will like this
film—I imagine it's an ultra-small demographic—but I'm sure that there are a handful of people out
there who are severely disappointed that I Hate Valentine's Day arrives on Blu-ray without
a lossless audio track. To be fair, though, the film's Dolby Digital 5.1 surround mix isn't bad,
especially considering the fact that this is a low-budget romantic comedy, a genre that isn't exactly
renowned for boisterous audio mixes. As you might expect, this is mostly a front-heavy, dialogue-
driven experience, but I have to give the film credit for keeping the surround channels surprisingly
active. You'll hear patron chatter and the clamor of forks on plates in a lunch diner, for instance,
and anytime the characters are outside, traffic moves quietly through the rear speakers. Music
often fills out the soundfield as well, although the score, if you can call it that, is dippier than
undercooked eggs. Most importantly, the dialogue—inane though it may be—comes through cleanly
and naturally. Could a lossless audio track improve anything here? Marginally, sure, but I didn't feel
like I was missing anything vital.
Commentary by Nia Vardalos and Producers Jason Shuman and William Sherak
Though I have a hard time recommending anyone watch the film again, Vardalos and her
producers
deliver a brisk, cheerful track that's actually fairly interesting when they discuss the practical ins
and
outs of obtaining funding for an independent rom-com. It's certainly not essential listening, but if
you do enjoy the film, you'll probably enjoy hearing Vardalos talk about it.
Valentine's Day has come and gone, and I Hate Valentine's Day will likely find its way to the
bargain bins and dusty back shelves of rental chains and retail stores nationwide. The only reason to
rescue a copy from the film's imminent obscurity is if you're a long-time Nia Vardalos fan who
collects everything the Grecian comedienne puts out, whether it's good or not. Otherwise, steer
clear.
MPI Media Group has announced 'I Hate Valentine's Day' for Blu-ray release on February 9, 2010. There is no information available on technical details or special features at this time. 'I Hate Valentine's Day' is written by Nia Vardalos and partners her again with ...
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