Ben Affleck, the film's title character, starts the movie by saying, "You see, after all is said and done, the only thing you can really be sure of—the only thing you can really count on in this world—is that you just never... f*cking... know."

We must stand up and disagree with Mr. Affleck on this one. You see, we had suspicions going into it that this movie would suck a fat one; we were right, so we DID know.

So there. Ha.

The opening statement is also significant for the fact that when Affleck accentuates "f*cking," he kicks off a wonderful 122 minute ride full of 122 uses of the word f*ck.

We know. We counted. The word f*ck is averaged once per minute throughout the film. In fact, the F word is used 3 times in the first 60 seconds of the film. Someone should have informed writer Martin Brest that this first minute’s worth of f*cks would have secured the film's R rating… but no. He felt he had to go the extra mile, and throw in a few more just to be sure.

Don’t be disappointed, though. If f*ck is not your preferred term of vulgarity, there is a wide array of sayings to choose from including: b*tch, jerk-off, sh*t, p*ss, p*ss-fart, clam-licker, god d*amn it, retard and p*ssy. This is not an all-inclusive list, it's just here to give you an idea how verbally incontinent the scriptwriter made these characters in a dim attempt to hide the fact that most of the time they... have... nothing... to... say.

Okay, now down to business.

As soon as Affleck/Gigli (pronounced like... well, we don't really care) steps outside it's apparently summertime in L.A. However, Gigli wears a leather mini-trench coat; the only reason for this, we deduce, is that Affleck needed a prop to help get into character and show he's a bad-@ss because otherwise he'd just be, well, Ben Affleck. Even WITH the trench coat, the bad accent, the string of obscenities, and the Elvis Presley hairdo, Gigli was still, well, Ben Affleck.

Gigli is sent by his boss Louis (a character with the all the sweet charm of toilet crust) to kidnap the mentally handicapped brother of a federal prosecutor for extortion purposes. However, not fooled by the leather trench coat any more than audiences are, Louis has a suspicion that Gigli is not "bad enough" to handle kidnapping a mentally challenged kid. So therefore, he sends J.Lo. The logical choice, we feel. When something needs done, send in J.Lo, we always say.

J. Lo's character, Ricki, is now in a tight spot. In 122 minutes she has to convince audiences that she's a lovable, tough, intelligent, funny lesbian with a conscience... all while dealing with a suicidal ex-girlfriend, Ben's overt sexual advances, and the annoying detail that she's barely wearing any clothing at all.

But Ricki and Gigli are stuck together because of the mentally handicapped boy, Brian. Brian is the one really good part of this movie. This kid adds an element of sweetness and innocence (despite his Tourette's outbursts) that none of the other characters could achieve. However, it takes a while to recognize Justin Bartha as "Brian," since Gigli and Louis refer him to so many times as "retard."

There is a quasi-touching moment where Gigli reads Brian the back of a Tabasco bottle so he can sleep, complete with overwrought emotional background music... but this moment followed roughly 30 seconds after the dinner scene were Gigli screamed at Brian, almost hit him, and called him a retard. Hmm... that conditional love... we want more of that. Makes us all weepy inside. Tissue anyone? This film is great if watching Ben Affleck abuse a brain-damaged boy is your thing. To each his own.

So... Ricki, Gigli, and Brian are stuck together. Ricki's a lesbian. Gigli wants her. Brian wants to go to "the Baywatch." Now what?

Well, writer/director Brest decides that to spice things up and get to the 122 minute mark, some cameos are needed. We have to admit, the fact that Christopher Walken and Al Pacino even appear in this film comes as something of shock; but, sadly, these cameos didn't even help.

Walken spent about ten minutes just talking on screen and being, well, Walken. No stretch was made, no boundaries broken, no exposition presented. The only recognizable purpose for his part was to waste ten minutes of film to inch audiences that much closer to Ben and Jennifer "doing it."

And Pacino? Well, he was Pacino. Despite an uncharacteristically unflattering hairdo (a mullet ponytail? On Pacino?) Mr. P just walked back and forth in front of Bennifer, yelling and being intimidating while they feigned shock and terror. Oh, well, he did shoot Louis—a not-too-creative way to get rid of a dead-weight character, if you ask us. Possible Martin Brest thought: "Man, Louis sucks now. He's fulfilled his lowly purpose as a character. How can I get rid of him... think, think... ah yes. I'll call Al Pacino in, give him a mullet and have him blow Louis's brains out. It only makes sense."

Yeah, everyone gets to see Ben and Jennifer have sex. Whoopee. Even though she's supposed to be a tried and true lesbian (supposedly reinforced by the yoga scene where she declares that females are the preferred form because everyone, man and woman alike, wants to kiss "the lips") Ricki is so taken in with Gigli's lovable character (uh-huh) that she "jumps the fence" for him. She even goes so far as to say "gobble, gobble. It's turkey time," when she wants him to go down on her. We think it was more like a pity lay, since the only part of Gigli's character that makes you go "awww..." is when he tells her he has no friends, and that his life sucks. And he cries. Yeah, what woman wouldn't go soft for a big blubbery guy in too much leather who stole Elvis's haircut?

So what else happens, you ask? (Oh, wait, you didn't ask? You don't care because this movie already sounds like a big fat waste of two hours? Oh well. We’re forging ahead anyway.)

Well... nothing else really happens. The lovable trio disbands. Peh.

Brian gets to go to the Baywatch and be an extra in a beach dance scene, despite the fact that he's the only person in the scene wearing clothes. We hope that Baywatch is not so hard up for dependable employees that someone on the film crew wouldn't have noticed a mentally challenged boy wearing two shirts, jeans, a hoodie sweatshirt, and a leather jacket for an almost nude scene. Maybe not. Maybe they're all to busy doing Hasselhoff's make-up.

Then Gigli and Ricki drive off into the sunset as a gospel choir sings. We felt like rejoicing with them. Not for the lesbian-turned-straight and her redeemed gangster b*itch, but for the credits. Our brains could take no more. If a J Lo song had blared as they drove away, we might have committed suicide.

Manda’s Final Thought: We may have nitpicked some areas of the movie a tad too much, such as the wardrobes, but it couldn’t be helped. There wasn't enough substance to this movie, either in the script or the acting, to forgive all the small details. I am just so utterly nonplussed by the verbally frustrated dialogue in this film that I am leery to watch any of the other movies Martin Brest has written. Granted, his directorial credits include some movies I really love (Scent of a Woman and Beverly Hills Cop) which leads me to believe he should stick to directing, not writing. This film is definitely a testament to the fact that writers can't start slacking off and producing crap just because they've had some success. It attracts horrible unconscionable monsters, such as the dreaded Bennifer.

Liss’s Final Thought: Nothing kept any piece of this movie together. These characters appear, do some stuff, and then leave, and the whole time I kept wondering why. Why were any of them there in the first place? Why was the film set in L.A.? Did anything matter to anything? Sure, there was a weak plot and a paycheck, but it really seemed at any moment, one or more key dancers in this shindig could or would leave to take a coffee break or get a warm piece of pie and it would make no earth-shattering difference. After an hour, it was not surprisingly more of the same. Why are they here doing this thing right now? Would real humans do this ever? Why should I care? Did I ever care in the first place? When they left and it was over, it was more—why did they go now instead of two hours ago? This film could've been made in thirty minutes in someone's bedroom closet and the outcome would have been the same.

In the end, nothing mattered, which is funny because nothing is exactly what would make me watch this film again.



Recommended:
No

Viewing Format: DVD
Video Occasion: None of the Above
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age