Lost and Found

by

Probably eager to get out of period costumes (Anna Karenina, Firelight, Braveheart) and in need of a holiday, Sophie Marceau (Lila) decided to star opposite David Spade (Dylan) in Lost and Found, a little film about a little dog, an irresistible French cellist and the malnourished guy next door. Naturally, since the dog is of a different breed, the gorgeous broad has an accent and the tiny guy is blond, any similarity to There’s Something About Mary is purely coincidental.

There isn’t much to say about Lost and Found except that it’s a feel-good movie for depressed, scrawny little guys – or large, unbearably dense guys – who are led to believe that, with a little effort, the woman of their dreams can become the woman of their reality, if they do something outrageously original like steal her dog. If she doesn’t have a dog, the guys can buy her one and then steal it. There’s nothing to it, really – the film assures its male audiences – you just have to get the hang of it (of charm, that is), turn it on like a 60-watt bulb, live a little and the rest will take care of itself.

After all, Dylan’s rival, Ren (Patrick Bruel), is only a rich, extravagant, persuasive French heartthrob. But Dylan is not worried. He’s about to open a restaurant – for which he doesn’t have the money; he plays strip poker with his elderly neighbors who take particular delight in sending him home in his birthday suit; and has a fine life. Until he sees Lila, that is.

The film doesn’t get more complicated than this. Lila falls for Dylan and the little guy wins against all odds, and the guys in the audience cheer because Spade poses no threat to their already dented masculinities – and since they too can look cute and stupid if they so desire. In fact, as Jeff (Booty Call) Pollack’s therapeutic film constantly reminds them, they can do everything Spade does: Tell lame, inoffensive jokes, make fun of their appearance, throw a dog in the dryer and live happily ever after in la-la land.

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