Cast: Monica Potter, Freddie Prinze Jr., Shalom Harlow, Ivana Milicevic, Sarah O'Hare, Tomiko Fraser
Director: Mark S. Waters
Producers: Julia Dray, Robert Simonds
Screenplay: Ron Burch & David Kidd
Cinematography: Mark Plummer
Music: Randy Edelman
U.S. Distributor: Universal Pictures
While enduring the mid-winter trial that goes by the name of Head Over Heels, I was reminded of two films at opposite poles of the quality magnet - Coyote Ugly and Rear Window. Not since the Piper Perabo-as-a-bartender movie has a motion picture gone for so much titillation without showing anything. Sex underlies 90% of Head Over Heels' so-called humor, yet, by employing double entendres and innuendo, the film manages to avoid an R rating. As for its resemblance to the Hitchcock classic, this becomes the third movie in recent years to stir the murder-and-voyeurism cocktail (the other two being the blasphemously bad Christopher Reeve remake of Rear Window and the equally malodorous What Lies Beneath).
Head Over Heels isn't a straight re-imagining of Rear Window (at least, not in the same way that Barb Wire followed the plotline of Casablanca), but the thievery is frequent and obvious (although perhaps not to the target audience of pre-teen girls, many of whom will not have seen, or even heard of, Rear Window). Grafted onto the did-he-or-didn't-he mystery is one part brainless romantic comedy and one part obvious satire of the fashion industry. Head Over Heels doesn't offer anything new. Its thriller elements, such as they are, are a yawn. Its romance is D.O.A. And its lampooning of shallow models has been done so frequently that every joke is tired and recycled. In fact, the movie gets so desperate for laughs that it includes a lengthy and over-the-top flatulence scene (guaranteed to have all third graders in stitches) and some idiotic slapstick with a blindfolded woman walking into furniture. That kind of stuff is guaranteed to have viewers rolling in the aisles.
The story revolves around wallflower Amanda Pierce (Monica Potter), who, like all motion picture wallflowers, is actually gorgeous - it's just that no one notices. Born in Iowa, Amanda moved to New York so she could work at the Met restoring paintings. Her love life has been a sad one - she has moved from one bad relationship to another. Now, once again disappointed by a boyfriend who did not live up to her expectations, she has decided to take refuge in her job, asking the rhetorical question, "Why do I need a personal life if my work makes me happy?" Soon, she's out looking for a new place to live, and ends up moving into an apartment shared by four dimwitted models: Jade (Shalom Harlow), Roxana (Ivana Milicevic), Candi (Sarah O'Hare), and Holly (Tomiko Fraser). Then, across the way through her living room window, she sees him: Jim Winston a.k.a. Mr. Perfect (Freddie Prinze Jr.). It's love at first sight, and, when they meet at a party, she's thrilled to find that the attraction is mutual. Later that night, however, she sees something that dampens her ardor as Jim appears to beat a blond to death with a baseball bat. And, when the police dismiss her eyewitness account, she decides to embark upon her own investigation.
Head Over Heels can easily boast one of the worst written screenplays of the year. The script is littered with cute, sit-com style dialogue and malaprop-littered conversations that sound more embarrassing than clever. (Two examples: a character says "you have a big dong" instead of "you have a big dog", and "I've got the runs" stands in for "I've got to run".) It's also pretty obvious that this film, despite essentially being about women, was written by men. Contrast the tone with that of Sugar & Spice, where the entire creative team was female. That's not a great film, but it feels more honest than Head Over Heels. The director is Mark S. Waters, who did the daring The House of Yes a few years ago (about a brother and sister who pretended to be JFK and Jackie). Without having his resume handy, no one would guess that the two movies were the product of the same man. If this isn't an example of how the Hollywood system neuters promising young directors, I'm not sure what is.
Head Over Heels stars B-level actress Monica Potter, a soap opera star whose biggest accomplishment to date has been to play the girlfriend in Patch Adams. Potter is pleasant to look at, but that's hardly an endorsement, since pretty faces are a dime a dozen in Hollywood. Playing opposite her is Freddy Prinze Jr., who seems to show up in every movie aimed at a young, female audience. Prinze is as physically appealing as he is acting challenged. His woodenness makes Potter seem as flexible as a ballet dancer. The four supermodels (played by supermodels) are about what one might expect. They don't exactly stun with their displays of talent.
All-in-all, Head Over Heels is a complete waste of time, on par with the aforementioned Coyote Ugly and Beautiful when it comes to unwatchability. It's an example of a market-driven movie - an ungainly thing that was created because its bare-bones plot and good-looking stars make it appealing to an increasingly potent demographic, not because there was any creative spark behind its genesis. When it comes to titles, this one got it backwards. Reflecting its brain-dead approach, the movie should be called Heels Over Head.
© 2001 James Berardinelli