Count the catty clichs in the first 15 minutes alone: A lonely museum curator (Bell) breaks her heel at a party after the DJ mistakenly announces her engagement. (OMG, she’s single? Cue turntable scratch.) Later, at her younger sister’s Roman wedding, a cute-but-late groomsman (Duhamel) runs down the aisle, his cell phone going off. The rest of the plot succeeds only in turning the already-meager charms of its stars into liabilities. (Full disclosure: The TONY offices make an appearance, as do the interiors of the Guggenheim.) Keep your coin far away from this toxic fountain of crap.—Joshua Rothkopf
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