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Bride Wars: Expect Nothing, Get Less

by Megan Seling

It’s my own fault, really, for expecting more from a trite Hollywood movie about women getting married, but I honestly thought Bride Wars would be… clever. Or at the very least, cute. Sadly, Bride Wars is everything the previews promise it to be—a predictable battle between the eyeliner-addicted Kate Hudson and mousy little Anne Hathaway.

But even with all the Hollywood glitz, is it too much to ask for there to be just a hint of realism? This isn’t Die Hard; I’m not going to get off harder the further it strays from reality. Even the more predictable chick flicks offer at least some glimmer of “it really could happen to you” hope.

Bride Wars abandons it at all cost.

Despite the fucked economy, a public-school teacher in New York City is able to afford the same overpriced wedding venue, planner, and ceremony as an in-demand lawyer. She’s a fucking schoolteacher! At a public school! How the hell is she paying for it? Oh right, she’s been saving up since she was 16 years old. Because, to these women, the dream is about the wedding, not the men they’re marrying. The men are simply pawns in their game. They’d rather have the perfect wedding than the perfect partner, and for that, these shallow little assholes deserve every ounce of venom they spit at one another.

I’m glad your weddings were booked on the same day and inevitably ruined, you little twits. I’m glad you got dyed orange days before your wedding, Anne Hathaway, and I wish you’d have gotten even fatter, Kate Hudson! You’re both jerks, and I hate you.

With such bratty main characters, Bride Wars stopped being a film I could even attempt to relate to and instead became a lipstick-smeared UFC championship. For 90 minutes, I was screaming on the inside for some bitch to just get knocked the fuck out.