Ghosts of Girlfriends Past

Imagine yourself in a Hollywood pitch meeting. ‘Hey,’ says an executive, let’s do “A Christmas Carol”. But instead of that loser crap – lame boys on crutches – let’s make it about a sleazy Lothario at a wedding who learns that his lifestyle is, like, shallow. Plus, the spirits are hot chicks! And let’s cast the fratboy star who’s incapable of wearing a shirt whenever a photographer is around.’ You wonder: aren’t people tired of Matthew McConaughey’s aw-shucks act? The suit scoffs. It’s greenlit.

Sounds cynical? Yes, because this is the kind of breezy fantasy about recognising true love and courting redemption that inspires misanthropy. There’s precious little to laugh at – not the lead’s one-dimensional swagger, Michael Douglas’s Rat Pack-meets-Robert Evans jive talk or an anti-misogyny parable with the gall to make every female a neurotic shrew or a sex-starved harpy. McConaughey’s character must face up to past trangressions; maybe, one day, those behind this rancid farce will have to deal with theirs.