I think they should have just called it Connor Mead Is a Huge Asshole and been done with it. Also, they might have avoided incurring the wrath of Charles Dickens, whom I hope rises from the dead and goes on a zombie rampage throughout the boardrooms of all the soulless corporations that had the slightest thing to do with this sure-to-be cinematic atrocity.
They just couldn’t avoid crazy-bride stuff, could they? This particularly enrages me, especially when you consider how Hollywood tells women that they’re supposed to live for this one special magical perfect day, but then all the movies about that one special magical perfect day are about taunting those women for being such singleminded bints. *argh*
Is Michael Douglas supposed to look like Hugh Hefner?
Can you “date” someone for “two days” or for “an hour” or for “48 seconds”? I mean, maybe this jerk thinks you can, but why would the girls by into that?
Holy crap, the movie is going to want us to feel sorry for this jerk, isn’t it?