The intriguing pairing of Julianne Moore and the ageless Pierce Brosnan unfortunately does not pan out in this predictable flick about two top-notch divorce attorneys who are adept at ending other people’s relationships, but not very good at maintaining their own. Audrey Woods is a brilliant, obsessively organized litigator who graduated at the top of her class at Yale and has never lost a case. Daniel Rafferty’s a disheveled drifter with an equally impressive courtroom record, though his methods are decidedly more unorthodox. As you might expect, these two opposites attract, but what Moore and Brosnan fail to do, despite commendable efforts, is engage us. Blame the disconnect on a prosaic screenplay which offers little in the way of convincing conflict — the cornerstone of any successful battle-of-the-sexes comedy — and gives character development such short-shrift that even a prodigious talent like Moore struggles to locate Audrey’s arc. Even if the roles were better written, both Moore and Brosnan would be woefully miscast. Despite all her supposed smarts, the romance-challenged Audrey Woods may as well be Elle Woods, and Moore simply isn’t the “Legally Blonde” sort. And casting the perpetually polished Brosnan as a rumpled tramp is akin to giving Ashton Kutcher a license to kill in a Bond movie. Come to think of it, with Ashton and Reese Wiitherspoon on board, “Laws of Attraction” might have worked out.
From the moment he meets her at a trial, Daniel sees something in Audrey that stirs his passion. Guess it’s the red hair and freckles, because it sure as hell isn’t her frosty demeanor, which doesn’t melt away until audience interest has long been on ice. Daniel, of course, has the devil-may-care attitude that Hollywood is certain uptight career women secretly long for, and after a too-convenient chance meeting in a picturesque Irish hamlet, and a few too many shots of whisky, our disagreeing duo winds up married. News of their union somehow garners mention on page six of the New York Post (huh?), and the couple must pretend to be happily hitched in order to avoid career embarrassment. This dubious scenario becomes downright absurd when husband and wife again square off in court, in the mother of all conflicts of interest, representing opposing parties in a high-stakes divorce. Right then and there the verdict is in: This one’s a mistrial. (Rated PG-13 for sexual content and language. Running time: 90 minutes)
Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on April 30, 2004. Read the original PDF.