The Ugly Truth (2009)

Romantic comedies at their best present the audience with two characters, preferably flawed but in possession of a boatload of redeeming qualities. This is important, because for the story to work, you’ll be asked to fall in love with one, then the other, and finally the idea of the two together. When they’re not so good, romantic comedies look a lot like The Ugly Truth.

In this film, Katherine Heigl plays Abby Richter, a marginally successful producer of a morning TV news show in Sacramento. And, as the shorthand for onscreen career women dictates, she is also a neurotic, undersexed control freak in her personal life. When her boss hires Mike Chadway (Gerard Butler), the potty-mouthed host of a cable show that imparts low-brow wisdom about the male-female dynamic, Abby is rightfully incensed. But she is also willing to concede that she needs him and his misogynistic maxims (example: You wanna know how to get a guy’s attention? Two words ladies: blow job) to help her bag the beautiful but boring man of her dreams (Eric Winter) who has just moved in next door.

Mike insists that Abby throw out her checklist of desirable qualities—including such gems as a perfectly symmetrical face and a love of wine, cats, and artsy things—and adhere to what he assumes is every man’s desired Madonna/whore personality. That means bras that make her breasts say, “put me in your mouth,” doing dishes in a little black dress, and bouncy hair extensions. It’s like My Fair Lady if Henry Higgins were a dirty old man (or Patty Stanger, the Millionaire Matchmaker).

Anyway, you know where this is going. Except the script, as penned by Karen Lutz and Kirsten Smith, gives us no idea how or why it gets there. Lutz and Smith prove once again that they can only write one likeable character at a time. In Legally Blonde, their previous pairing with director Robert Luketic, only Elle Woods emerged as anything more than a cardboard cutout of a type.

In The Ugly Truth, Butler’s rugged good looks and wry, crooked smile go a long way at endearing us to rakish Mike. And the writers do a passably good job of convincing us that Mike is, in fact, a loveable cad by showing his sweet relationship with his sister and pre-adolescent nephew. They also imply that his attitude has a lot to do with past heartbreaks, so that all he needs is a good woman to mend what’s been broken.

The problem is that even if you’re willing to suspend your disbelief long enough to buy this conceit, there’s no telling why Abby is that woman. When she isn’t preparing talking points for her dates or self-righteously lecturing about tap water, she is bouncing around like an airheaded, insecure 13-year-old girl. It doesn’t matter how smart she is (or that she’s walking around in Heigl’s face and body), Abby is impossible for any man, let alone whole audiences, to love.

For her part, Heigl has yet to prove that she’s got the chops to play the rom-com leading lady that disarms you with her klutziness and winning smile. It’s clear throughout the film that she’s uncomfortable in her Abby suit, as her acting is at turns both over-animated and wilted.

Even with its failings, The Ugly Truth is not the worst this genre can do. There are a decent number of Judd Apatow-lite laughs in it. Vibrating panties at a business meeting, anyone? There’s also palpable sexual chemistry between Heigl and Butler, acutely felt in their post-salsa dancing first kiss in a hotel elevator. Still, the whole affair feels less like love and more like a just barely satisfying roll in the hay.