New York, I Love You: Thanks, Brett Ratner!

Paris, Je T’Aime was such
a successful anthology film that it’s not surprising to see spiritual
sequels dutifully popping up—Shanghai, I Love You is
already slated for a 2011 release—but it is disheartening to see
the drop in quality between Paris Je T’Aime and New York,
I Love You. Instead of directors like Alfonso Cuarón, Gus
Van Sant, and the Coen brothers, we get a segment by Brett Ratner.
Instead of a true omnibus spirit—Paris flipped through
various genres and featured social commentary—we get a
surprisingly Caucasian-heavy cast (although there’s still an Asian
actress, the delightful Maggie Q, kicking around to play a high-class
hooker) and a litany of brief, cinematic meet-cutes that turn the
center of the film into a doughy mass.

Setting aside the weird glee of recognition intrinsic to any
cinematic anthology—this is surely the only time in the history
of the world that Shia LaBeouf will get the chance to play a
gimp-legged, Russian immigrant bellhop, and you can hear him salivating
over ewery… sinkle… word—there are very few exciting
ideas in New York. Did you know that New York is the Greatest
City in the World? That different cultures are Learning Important
Lessons about each other every single day? That Strangers Can Be Rude
but deep down We All Want to Be Loved? Did you realize that Crippled
Hot Girls Can Fuck Like Monkeys? (Thanks for that last one, Brett
Ratner!)

It’s probably wrong to expect too much of New York; it
would make a better movie for a first date than the latest Sandra
Bullock crime against humanity, to be sure. And Andy Garcia and James
Caan have a lot of fun with the screen time they get. But as a love
letter to the Big Apple, it’s a failure. Virtually any Woody Allen
movie understands the nuances of New York better than this film.