The Break-Up - Austin American-Statesman movie review

Vince Vaughn brings chuckles and charm to 'The Break-Up'

By CHRIS GARCIA
Austin American-Statesman

What's so good about the tart but defiantly old-fashioned romantic comedy "The Break-Up" is that it was obviously not written by soul-killing committee. Instead of roping in hacks and script doctors to thin the sauce of an idiosyncratic script, the filmmakers have preserved their vision and allowed room for it to ping and pong wherever the comic muse whacks it. The result is something like last year's "The 40 Year-Old Virgin": a smart adult comedy that takes itself seriously enough to respect our intelligence while being inspired and disarmingly endearing.

Universal Pictures

'The Break-Up'

3 out of 5 stars

The verdict: Lickety-split wit.

Director: Peyton Reeds
Starring: Vince Vaughn, Jennifer Aniston, Jon Favreau, Joey Lauren Adams, Ann-Margret
Run time: 106 minutes
Release date: June 2, 2006
Rating: PG-13 for sexual content, some nudity and language.
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Our gratitude goes to the obnoxious charm of eternal man-boy Vince Vaughn, who owns the movie, both figuratively and somewhat literally. Vaughn and screenwriting newcomers Jeremy Garelick and Jay Lavender developed the story through months of acting out and improvisation, and Vaughn also co-produced. This gives the film's dialogue and some of the situations a crackling spontaneity, much of it rattling from Vaughn's machine-gun mouth. He pops off lines with the manic rapidity of one of those funny-smart guys whose charisma springs from a nimble wit. He can make a mundane line like "Please don't touch my Ruffles" golden. He's a jerk and a lug, but he has heart and a way of melting your defenses.

That's how we assume he bagged his female opposite, an absurdly fit, tanned, chin-up Jennifer Aniston, who plays the straight woman to Vaughan's angry clown. She likes ballet, he likes baseball. She's an art collector, he's a video-game junkie. They live together in a massive Chicago condo, which will soon serve as their well-appointed bicker room.

Vaughn, a towering thirtysomething with puffy eyes, is Gary, a Chicago tour guide who runs the business with his brothers, a caddish Cole Hauser and a bloated Vincent D'Onofrio (who gives the most bizarrely unfocused performance of the year). A monochrome actor, Vaughn plays the same juvenile goof he perfected in "Old School" and "Wedding Crashers." In a nod to "Swingers," he exchanges amusing guy banter with his co-star in that film, Jon Favreau, who is now shaped like a beach ball.

As disenchanted girlfriend Brooke, Aniston is all sturdy maturity next to Vaughn, who easily eclipses her. And, in her ultra-thin mode, she looks like a 13-year-old next to Vaughn. The birdseed diet isn't working for her.

There's nothing radical about "The Break-Up." It's content to be a low-concept, traditional romance that quickly turns bitter before our eyes. It hits the usual relationship notes, from shrill squabbling to jealousy ploys, sustaining a darkish tone as it rather perfunctorily runs through a couple's meltdown. It can be incredibly lazy in spots — the courtship is conveyed in Kodak moments in the opening credits — before coming back with something as hilariously loony as an all-male a capella group called The Tone Rangers.

The movie recalls classics of the reluctant-break-up genre, say, Preston Sturges' screwbally "The Palm Beach Story" and Albert Brooks' grimly riotous "Modern Romance." It's a surprisingly mellow movie, dappled with ramshackle charms and a little heartache that's no heavier than a "Friends" episode. A pat ending is rejected for something closer to "Annie Hall," and it all happens without a single flatulence gag or pratfall. Imagine that.