Though Made Of Honor possesses all the necessary trimmings for a sentimental, breezy romantic comedy, there’s something about the main ingredient that’s unpleasant, if not downright creepy at its core. And that would be a starry-eyed leading man (Patrick Dempsey) who falls hopelessly in love with his best pal Hannah (Michelle Monaghan), but not before sexually sampling nearly every woman in town. That we’re now in such a safe sex cautionary era aside, turning a lecherous pig into Prince Charming is a tad more problematic than, say, transforming that mythic frog.
Dempsey is Tom, a serial seducer and businessman, whose claim to fame is inventing the cardboard sleeve lining the containers of that pricey takeout designer coffee. A decade or so before, while wandering the dorms up at Cornell College to sniff out random available coed booty, Tom saunters by mistake into the room of Hannah, his latest lay’s friend.
Inexplicably, a far more particular Hannah when it comes to a choice in mates, becomes his best friend for life. That is, until the day she becomes engaged to a handsome, wealthy Scotsman while overseas on a business trip. And it’s only when the clueless clod realizes he’s just about to lose his best bud to another man, that the love rather than lust bug hits him for the first time in his life.
No need to figure out where this snoozer of a story is headed, but the journey there nevertheless takes some absurdly far fetched detours. In addition to which, there’s the usual offensive caricatures of heavier and older women. But even further beyond belief, is how this extra-picky Hannah – an orthodox animal rights advocate who cringes over the sight of a leather bag or a plate of Scottish venison, would be okay, even as just a friend, let alone an object of desire – with a guy who indiscriminately and thoughtlessly gorges himself full time on the available female flesh meat market out there, not to mention exploiting and disrespecting other women.
Made Of Honor, which is directed by that Mr. Bean creative machine, Paul Weiland, is spared the label of total dud by its impressive visuals filmed around the Scottish Highlands, but little else. A womanizer’s guide to matrimonial bliss.