Dir: Doug Liman
Starring: Jon Favreau, Vince Vaughn, Ron Livingston, Heather Graham

It's movies like this which make me very, very pleased to be happily married, given the alternative - according to this movie, at least - appears to be devoting all your spare time to the pursuit of the opposite sex. Don't get me wrong: this makes for amusing, occasionally great, viewing. I'm just delighted Chris and I have found each other, and can watch this unfold, safe in the knowledge that we'll never have to prowl bars again. The horror, the horror...

Favreau, who also wrote the script, plays Mike, a transplant from New York to LA who has left his girlfriend behind, but still misses her. Trent (Vaughn) takes Mike under his wing, bringing him to Las Vegas, and schooling him in the way of wooing, e.g. how long to wait before calling a woman who has given you her number. Which might work better if Mike wasn't the kind of guy who goes through an entire relationship in five minutes of talking to the girl's answering machine. It's at its best engaging in this kind of self-disparaging mockery. Unfortunately, there's too much filler (and way too much swing dancing - though any non-zero amount would qualify), while Trent is the kind of over-prevalent asshole that explains why I never went to bars much to begin with. Probably inevitably, the massive cult reputation exceeds it; but when it's good, scores a more than acceptable number of hits.


So money, and they don't even know it.
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