Little Black Book Reviews
It's not well scripted enough or well acted enough to do much of anything, save make anyone watching really hate Brittany Murphy for being so annoying and so incredibly unlikely as a cute twenty-something Diane Sawyer wannabe.
It's no fun to side with Murphy's mean-spirited paranoiac, so we're soon rooting for the gynecologist to uncover a venereal disease, or for the chef to whip up some salmonella, or even for that Palm cradle to fall into the bathtub.
Part of the movie's problem is that it can't decide whether to be a romantic comedy or a satire of television. Unlike the most obvious example, 1987's Broadcast News, this movie's not smart enough to be both.
We assume this is going to be a routine career-girl comedy, and we're surprised when it moves deeper into its subject until finally it's a satirical comedy about television that invades some of the same territory as Network or Broadcast News
Set in the exploitive world of Jerry Springer-style confessional shows, Little Black Book suggests this unpleasant theme: 'Movies That Aren't Worth Your Eight Bucks, Let Alone Talking About!'
Filled with poor excuses for human beings, who are supposed to be funny in their utter disregard for their fellow man. But they mostly come off as sadistic and cruel, which isn't a great recipe for knee-slapping comedy.
The jaw-droppingly nasty second act is intriguing, but it veers into territory so dark that it sucks the air out of the bouncy chick flick that surrounds it, making for one confused -- and confusing -- comedy.