Given that admission, you might conclude I have no right criticizing it. You would be absolutely correct in that assertion.
Still, I hate the film.
Make no mistake, I’ve got nothing against eating, praying OR loving. Do all three, in fact (though the latter one is a bit rustier than the others…)
I’m also a fan of Julia Roberts as an actress. She kicked butt in Erin Brockovich — and Pretty Woman still ranks as one of my mom’s all-time favorites of the modern era.
So why my disdain for the movie?
It all boils down to something I call the “sap factor.” I’ll assume the term is fairly self-explanatory…
Some have surmised that my scorn for so-called chick flicks is because, deep-down, I’m afraid that one of them might actually pierce through my exoskeleton and unleash a torrent of girlie emotions. I’ll admit, the thought has crossed my mind.
Worse yet, I could discover that I actually enjoy these sap-fests, resulting in immediate evisceration of my masculinity.
To avoid these frightening outcomes, I have pledged to steer clear of Eat Pray Love, as well as any of the following films:
Sleepless in Seattle or You’ve Got Mail (Meg Ryan should’ve just retired after When Harry Met Sally)
Fried Green Tomatoes (not the least bit appetizing)
Steel Magnolias (way too much high-priced estrogen in this one)
Dirty Dancing (the greatest tribute to the late Patrick Swayze would be to expunge this one from his resume)
Breakfast at Tiffany’s (can’t we just meet for lunch at Chipotle?)
An Affair to Remember (I keep getting this confused with the new John Edwards biopic)
Gone with the Wind (I’ve heard it’s like 12 hours long, although there’s apparently a scene when a girl gets thrown from a horse)
Hope Floats (but bombs sink)
Waiting to Exhale (an apt description of me while being forced to endure this atrocity)
Like Water for Chocolate (a.k.a. Like Ipecac for Cyanide)