Going the Distance (R)
Carmike 10, Chapel Hills 15, Cinemark 16, Hollywood Interquest, Tinseltown
Why is it so weird to see Drew Barrymore and Justin Long sharing a bong and making out? And humping on the kitchen table? And having relatively explicit phone sex? Is it just that such super-cute people normally don't do these things in cookie-cutter romantic comedies? Is it because they're together — or were, or will be, or whatever — in real life? Is it because it's just plain embarrassing to see them both trying so hard?
You'd think Going the Distance could capitalize on the pity it evokes. As a tale of the modern struggle for a bi-coastal balance of work and life, with a pair of stars who are pretty much as just-like-us as stars can be, it should seem comfortingly, chord-strikingly familiar. Like watching your friends striving against long odds in an uphill battle of being together. Oh, wait, actually, that's really awkward, isn't it?
Yeah, well so's this movie. It's like this: She's in journalism school at Stanford, but doing a summer internship in New York — which is where he lives and works for a record company, unhappily. Do they meet cute? Well, they meet peculiar. Fun. Sweet. Not hot. Strained, somehow, and not just by geography.
But OK, let's try going this distance. We suspect it won't be very far. They bond over cherished pop-culture artifacts (the Centipede arcade game, Tom Cruise in Top Gun), and discover new ones (that panda sneezing on YouTube) together. They have their lovey-dovey montage, set to music by the Cure. And, alas, they have their responsibilities. They bounce back and forth between New York and San Francisco, trying to make it work.
Comic relief is supplied by his buddies (Jason Sudeikis and Charlie Day) and her protective sister (Christina Applegate). The problem, unfortunately, is that it's not entirely comic, and not much of a relief.
Yet our lovers keep trying. They are good sports.
"I have a tip."
"Is it the tip of your penis?!"
[mutually affectionate laughter]
That's actually one of the more genuine moments in Geoff LaTulippe's script, which otherwise seems almost compulsively ingratiating. It's like he has some geriatric yesteryear-studio-chief voice in his head, telling him: The kids talk dirty in the pictures these days. Put that in. What's more, director Nanette Burnstein used to make documentaries (On the Ropes, American Teen), so it's startling how false her characterization of today's journalism and music industries seems.
OK, yes, yes, this is romantic comedy, not anthropology. Or, anyway, it's supposed to be.
Long has great timing, except when his director doesn't. (Happily, LaTulippe's next project is an adaptation of the undead romance novel, Breathers: A Zombie Lament, where a stilted sense of humor seems entirely appropriate.) The same goes for Barrymore's adorable, down-to-earth dignity. Consider it squandered.
You know, it might actually be good to confuse this Going the Distance with the National Lampoon sex romp of the same name from 2004. In fact, that might be a way to give both efforts the benefit of the doubt. And to remember that all things, if they keep going long enough, eventually will be gone.