Cast: Jennifer Lopez, Ralph Fiennes, Tyler Posey, Marissa Matrone, Natasha Richardson, Stanley Tucci, Bob Hoskins
Director: Wayne Wang
Producers: Elaine Goldsmith-Thomas, Paul Schiff, Deborah Schindler
Screenplay: Kevin Wade
Cinematography: Karl Walter Lindenlaub
Music: Alan Silvestri
U.S. Distributor: Columbia Pictures
Whatever happened to Jennifer Lopez, actress? Seductive, charismatic, and energetic, she electrified the screen in movies like Selena and Out of Sight. The woman masquerading as her in Maid in Manhattan appears to be the one who stole her name for such lackluster fare as The Wedding Planner, Angel Eyes, and Enough. Perhaps the advent of J.Lo, pop personality, has crushed all but a few remaining vestiges of the woman's acting ability, but the Jennifer Lopez appearing on screen in 2002 bears little resemblance to her earlier self.
Even if she was in peak form, it's doubtful that Lopez could do much with the material that forms the framework for Maid in Manhattan, a by-the-numbers, Cinderella romantic comedy that is guaranteed to insult the intelligence of any audience member over the age of 10. It's entirely possible for a formulaic motion picture to be enjoyable. Conventional storytelling is not necessarily a bad thing, but it has to be accomplished with zest and verve. Maid in Manhattan isn't just predictable – it's badly acted, blandly directed, and could have been scripted by someone who just graduated from elementary school.
Maid in Manhattan introduces us to Marisa Ventura (Lopez), a maid at New York City's prestigious Beresford Hotel. One day, while illicitly trying on the clothing of a wealthy guest, Marisa is caught red-handed by Senatorial candidate Christopher Marshall (Ralph Fiennes), who has just met Marisa's son, Ty (Tyler Posey). What's a woman to do? Sheepishly admit to being seen doing something she shouldn't have been doing? Of course not - this is a movie. Instead, she pretends to be the owner of the clothing, and thus begins a series of misunderstandings and mistaken identities. In the end, Marisa and Christopher are fated to be together, but, in order to get to the point where they admit their true feelings, we have to grope our way through 90 minutes of unbelievably bad tripe.
Storylines in romantic comedies aren't supposed to mean much. They're a means to an end, but when a picture assaults the audience's willing suspension of disbelief the way this one does, something has gone horribly wrong. Maid in Manhattan relies upon a pair of painfully inept contrivances direct out of a bad TV sitcom. Still, things might have been salvageable if there had been a hint of chemistry between Lopez and Fiennes, but there's nothing there – not even the faintest hint of a spark. Fiennes does not give a dynamic portrayal, but he's fine at being suave and debonair. Unfortunately, Lopez doesn't give him anything to play off of. By the time in the movie when we're supposed to be rooting for these two to get together, we're fighting back the urge to take a nap.
One member of the supporting cast should be given an A for effort, although his participation would have been better in another movie. That's Bob Hoskins, who plays a sage, aging butler at the Beresford. Sadly, Hoskins' attempt to inject a little dignity is quickly swept under the rug with all of the rest of the room service crumbs. Natasha Richardson is grating as the over-the-top shrew whose clothing Marisa "borrows." Stanley Tucci is solid, although not memorable, in the sort of uptight role he is becoming accustomed to. And young Tyler Posey proves that not every child actor is gifted. (Is that a cruel statement? Yes. But it's also honest.)
The director of Maid in Manhattan is Wayne Wang. Like Lopez, he appears to have been the recent victim of an identity theft. It's hard to reconcile the connect-the-dots job here with the man who helmed The Joy Luck Club and Smoke. Outside of the film's first fifteen minutes, which purport to show the behind-the-scenes goings on at a five-star hotel (this part was kind of interesting), Maid in Manhattan has little to recommend it. This isn't just typical, unchallenging Hollywood drek – it's typical, unchallenging Hollywood drek made by people who don't care, for people who don't care.
© 2002 James Berardinelli