L.A. is no Manhattan; and Martin is no Woody.

I know this has probably been said a thousand times-- discussed ad nauseam,-- about the similarities between this film and Woody Allen's "Manhattan." Everything from the relationships, to the way it romanticizes a city and its inhabitants -- rather tried to in this case, for it failed -- but the characters, as well as the settings are just nauseating, cheap, cheesy and absurd. I didn't like any of them, I didn't feel for them, even when the 'mood' music in the background was telling me to be sad for something.
There was nothing romantic, it was just absurd, and rather vexing. Quirkiness turns into beyond annoying here; interesting turns into idiotic and moronic here. What type of world are these characters living in?

But maybe. . .and that's a very small maybe.... it was done on purpose to show how truly empty LA is, and how all the stock characters that litter the landscape are that hollow, and there's nothing but copies after copies of the same, no originality, simply nonentities floating through the void of a pseudo-city.

Redeemable qualities? None. It wasn't even funny for crying out loud. It was just trying too hard to be deep and romantic and interesting and failing every time.




.;*We Live Inside A Dream*;.