Jaw-droppingly egotistical, mind-numbingly insubstantial, thoroughly inept and excruciatingly dull; writer/director/star Eric Schaeffer's 92-minute love song to himself is just about as unwatchable as a movie ever gets. Schaeffer casts himself as a sensational guy and (we're often told) legendary lover; a New York City cabbie with a secret (a very trite, sappy, predictable secret) who just happens to pick up a SuperModel as a fare one day and, though no man has ever won her heart, Schaeffer has her in the palm of his slimy, little hand in no time flat. And, speaking of flat, as the SuperModel (referred to here as "the most beautiful woman in the world" ) we get the fish-faced, butt-ugly, utterly charmless and talent-free, long -standing-Euro-Joke Amanda de Cadenet in her career-killing American film debut and here we have the one thing about the film that actually clicks: These two make a perfectly matched set.
The levels on which this crock doesn't work would take more space than alloted here to enumerate. Just suffice it to say that, should you see it at your video store, put it down - back slowly away from the shelf and rent something else. ANYTHING else.
I don't just want my four bucks back, I want my 92 minutes back.
The levels on which this crock doesn't work would take more space than alloted here to enumerate. Just suffice it to say that, should you see it at your video store, put it down - back slowly away from the shelf and rent something else. ANYTHING else.
I don't just want my four bucks back, I want my 92 minutes back.