The Love Punch review: below the belt

Emma Thompson and Pierce Brosnan plot a jewel heist. In the French Riviera. No, it does not make any sense. Yes, it requires lines of dialogue akin to “Hey, good thing you knew a guy who could create a replica of a $10 million diamond necklace on short notice.” And a mess of kittens in a place where kittens would never, ever be (seriously). And for Brosnan (A Long Way Down) and Thompson (Saving Mr. Banks) — and their pals Timothy Spall (The Rise) and Celia Imrie (The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel) — to disguise themselves as Texans, for Scooby-Doo or — at a stretch — Bugs Bunny values of “disguise.” The jokes are as creaky as the aching bunions and bad backs onscreen; in one scene, a funny little European car drives down a flight of outdoor stairs in Paris! I do wish that Thompson and Brosnan’s first movie together weren’t so damn dumb… but it is Thompson and Brosnan together for the first time, and they are incandescent in a golden-age screwball-comedy kind of way. Shame the movie itself doesn’t even try to aspire to that. Writer-director Joel Hopkins was far kinder to Thompson in his previous film with her, Last Chance Harvey. Maybe he’ll be kind to her again — and bring Brosnan back — for another shot. With a much better script next time, please.