Maid In Manhattan

By no means the laziest or most excruciating romantic comedy ever made, but still fairly insufferable all the same, Maid in Manhattan throws together the unlikely and highly implausible coupling of super-suave Britflick reliable Ralph Fiennes and diva Hello-mag icon Jennifer Lopez.

Essentially a Pretty Woman remake with added echoes of Dangerous Minds’ unspeakably saccharine take on poverty, Maid in Manhattan casts the jewel-studded J-Lo as a downtrodden, underpaid chambermaid slave-labouring her life away in a swish New York hotel, until an ultra-rich Republican Party politician (Fiennes) arrives to sweep her off her feet. More so than is the rom-com norm, there isn’t even the pretence that his appeal is based on anything other than riches, and there are several nasty and offensive examples throughout of a ruthlessly hard-right ‘on-yer-bike’ attitude to the social deprivation the film purports to condemn.

Lopez’ utterly shameless ultra-capitalist worldview, as evidenced in such modern musical masterpieces as ‘Jenny From The Block’, renders her probably the single most repugnant creature to bestride a silver screen since her ex-pal Puff Daddy. Nonetheless, she’s a competent one-note actress when not required to move out of shrill-Latino-shrew mode, and executes her duties throughout Maid In Manhattan with minimum fuss, even if the film doesn’t require her to do nearly as much menial work as the enlightened viewer might have hoped.

Meanwhile, a faintly embarrassed-looking Fiennes turns up, pockets the cheque and runs a mile without letting the project down. In fairness, Natasha Richardson’s comic turn as a stinking-rich Sloane hotel guest at least approximates a redeeming feature, though it’s hardly reason enough to slog through the rest of the film.

Still, it’s comforting to know that the box-office takings may well go towards a new fur-coat for J-Lo, or even a better class of sycophant. Hooray!