This film, chiefly a vehicle conceived to highlight Charlotte Church at a time when she was about to relinquish classical music to jump on the bandwagon of pop (maybe wrongly) didn't last long at its opening in English theaters. It didn't reach the streets in France for the simple reason that if Church is celebrated abroad for having a sublime voice and sang for a good number of most momentous people around the globe, she isn't a household name in my native country. This film was broadcast a few weeks ago on French TV and it was so hurriedly, badly dubbed that it brought a sensation of false, phony. It wasn't much of a problem given the weak contents and substance of Craig Ferguson's film.
The fleeting life of the film in the English theaters is hardly surprising. This reheated menu is certainly partly derived from Church's several installments in her life. The quality of her acting leaves a lot to be desired. It's true that it would take impervious ears to resist her voice and singing but it's impossible to be moved by her rather wooden acting. And she's not served by a story with little depth and is sedately scheduled in its evolution and its recesses. Just think about the staple ingredients used by Ferguson: take a has-been rock musician in limbo, make him discover that he's got a cute daughter, the result of a relationship which lasted one week-end. And this daughter has a wondrous voice, so she could take her chance in music but her mother is not ready to accept this because the clichés of rock n'roll remain stuck on her mind. I won't tell the rest but the different steps of the scenario interlock as planned to give a run-on-the-mill film. Actors act cardboard characters and the supposedly would-be droll moments fall flat (sorry Mr. Ferguson, but you didn't manage to make me smile during your antics at the psychiatric hospital). And there's a bad taste editing opening the film announcing the fiasco of this well-worn tale.
Some users on this site talked about the "feel-good" vibe which shrouds the film. I wasn't taken with it at all so this vibe wasn't palpable at all to me.
The fleeting life of the film in the English theaters is hardly surprising. This reheated menu is certainly partly derived from Church's several installments in her life. The quality of her acting leaves a lot to be desired. It's true that it would take impervious ears to resist her voice and singing but it's impossible to be moved by her rather wooden acting. And she's not served by a story with little depth and is sedately scheduled in its evolution and its recesses. Just think about the staple ingredients used by Ferguson: take a has-been rock musician in limbo, make him discover that he's got a cute daughter, the result of a relationship which lasted one week-end. And this daughter has a wondrous voice, so she could take her chance in music but her mother is not ready to accept this because the clichés of rock n'roll remain stuck on her mind. I won't tell the rest but the different steps of the scenario interlock as planned to give a run-on-the-mill film. Actors act cardboard characters and the supposedly would-be droll moments fall flat (sorry Mr. Ferguson, but you didn't manage to make me smile during your antics at the psychiatric hospital). And there's a bad taste editing opening the film announcing the fiasco of this well-worn tale.
Some users on this site talked about the "feel-good" vibe which shrouds the film. I wasn't taken with it at all so this vibe wasn't palpable at all to me.