• Wide Release
• Director: Mark Waters
• Written by: Scott Moore, Jon Lucas
• Running Time: 100 minutes
• Language: English
• MPAA Rating: PG-13 - Parents Strongly Cautioned
• Cast: Matthew McConaughey, Jennifer Garner, Michael Douglas, Breckin Meyer, Lacey Chabert, Robert Forster, Anne Archer, Emma Stone, Daniel Sunjata, Noureen DeWulf, Rachel Boston, Camille Guaty, Amanda Walsh, Emily Foxler, Catherine Haena Kim, Noa Tishby, Rachelle Wood, Erin Wyatt, Stephanie Oum, Micah Sherman, Albert M. Chan, Michael Anastasia, Paul Cassell, Dan Whelton, Devin Brochu, Kasey Russell, Scott Powers, Michael R. Pouliot, Logan Miller, Heather Wilde, Christa B. Allen, Chad Mountain, Samantha Goober, Alyssa McCourt, Sam Byrne, Gina Gesamondo, Toni Saladna, Abigail Kuklis, Paula Merritt, Kortney Adams, Cindy Lentol, Kimberly Carvalho, Ashley Carvalho, Travis Clough, Jasmine Tang, Genevieve Glenn, Farah Casis, Lauren Tangard, Layla Hosseini, Quiana Grant, Taylar Eliza Bunts, Munjeet Geyer, Erin McParland, Allyssa Maurice, Alicia Barrett, Natalie Alain Loisou, Olga Maliouk, Tom Kemp, Stephen Russell, Tyler Christopher, Lexi Lawson, Artie Sgaraglio, J. Levine, Michael Hannigan, Robert Ellis, Patrick Canty, Tina Casciani, Desiree April Connolly, Nicki Connors, Trudi Goodman, Sophya Gudelman, Annalaina Marks, Dan Marshall, Robert Masiello, Stream

"Ghosts of Girlfriends Past” is a snapshot of many of the women I’ve met in my life: shallow, nasty, systematically shutting down romantic advances of the polite, sweet guys in their life while clambering to the wishes of some asshole, who intends only to use them and throw them away the moment some new 'thang' catches their wandering eye. Later, those same women are quick to turn around and suggest that “all men are jerks,” or some such crap -- never taking into consideration the choices that they made when picking their mates. Yes, it’s a universal theme – something all nice guys the world over have heard, mainly because 'nice guys' tend to be the unlikely recipients of the female's vitriol, as they vent about being dumped or whatever on their comforting shoulder.

Granted, I have a feeling that this film will be thoroughly savaged by most women, including virutally all female film critics. On the other hand, any dejected, shy male who has been on the receiving end of such feminine malice, will probably rejoice with glee -- as their experiences are finally being documented on celluloid. For sure, this is a comedy that underlines neatly how absolutely fucked up women can be when choosing their prospective mates. In fact, there’s a scene midway into the film where a trio of lusty bridesmaids conspire to get Matthew McConaughey’s reprehensible, sociopath of a character into the sack, all the while hissing and sneering with disgust and condescension at the trio of awkward, but kind-hearted groomsmen standing on the other side of the room. Yes! Nice guys know this moment all too well. As well, I’m sure the director himself, Mark Waters, was probably at some point in his life, one of those nerds standing in the corner, getting sneered at. And this movie, as void of life as it is, I guarantee you, was meant as his reprisal. In fact, as I was also one of those socially awkward nerds in life (and still am), I have to tell you, this film really touched a raw nerve for me. I know the women presented in this movie, and, well, I don’t like them. And as Jennifer Garner’s 'not-too-bright' ultra-intellectual doctor character dances off into the night with her piggish man whore, I found myself giggling at the absurdity of it all, and, well, how genuine it felt. I know women like this -- forever seduced by the bad boys they meet, only to wind up, months later, heart broken, or, in some cases, beaten senseless, by them. All the while the nice guys are left standing alone in the corner of the room, holding the proverbial bag, listening to women generalize about how “all men are jerks.” Yeah, whatever! That said; let me get onto the freaking review already.

Extending the sensitively-defunct ideology of his “I get older, they stay the same age” character from “Dazed and Confused”, primped and tanned Matthew McConaughey tags yet another ill-conceived romcom-character to his increasingly dismal acting resume. This, his latest rendering of said stale characterization, Connor Mead, is a vain, serial womanizing Vanity Fair photographer, whose super-expedient ostentatious lifestyle, has left him little time to take note of his only brother’s fast approaching wedding date. This point is best made in the film’s uncomfortable muck-worn opener, as McConaughey attempts to accelerate his plans for intimacy with a new cover model by breaking up with his latest three pesky one-night-stands via conference call. Such is his treatment of women in general; a veritable ‘find them, fuck them, drop them at the next corner’ mentality – the kind that, apparently, makes many a woman swoon. See, Connor has an attitude about love - that it is, "magical comfort food for the weak and uneducated,” and it’s an attitude that we quickly discover has left him with a sexual chronology consisting of a list of female conquests long enough to fill a phone book, and an emptiness in his soul that promises to overtake him if he doesn’t soon do something about it.

Following his tryst with the sexy cover-model/singer, Connor quickly skedaddles up to his childhood home in Newport, for his brother Paul’s (Breckin Meyer) wedding. Upon arrival, he immediately encounters a rehearsal party ensemble of nerds, horny bridesmaids and Paul’s fiancée, Sandra (Lacey Chabert), who, in stereotypical bridezilla fashion, seems unable to get through a scene without throwing a hissy fit. He also encounters Jenny Perotti (Jennifer Garner), the first and, apparently, last woman to break his heart. It was by her own actions, passing him over for a hunky football player, that sent Connor careening down this path of promiscuity and finely tuned misogyny. “I don’t want to ever feel this way again,” a dejected Connor tells his Uncle (Michael Douglas), after being stranded by his date Jennifer at the school dance. Granted, the untimely loss of the only other significant woman in his life, his mother, who died in a tragic car accident when he was only seven, might also have something also to do with his decision to become king-womanizer, but the film doesn’t delve too heavily into that aspect of his psychology, for better or worse. It might have been a better movie if it had. Thankfully, Uncle Wayne has a way with the ladies, and before long he’s taking Connor under his wing, teaching him how to properly manipulate women into giving it up, as well as, the ins and outs of, well, the ole in/out. Well...um, later on that evening, after delivering a half-lit speech about the futility of love and the institution of marriage, Connor, who is strangely off his game thanks to Jennifer, is quickly making arrangements to bang one of the three analogous bridesmaids (the sleepy-eyed, annoying-as-fuck Amanda Walsh of Much Music fame) up in his room. While preening in a bathroom mirror, Connor is dropped in on by his long deceased Uncle Wayne, who is, even in his ghostly form, still wearing the schmaltzy lounge lizard attire he donned in life. He tells Connor that the Ghosts of Girlfriends Past/Present/Future will soon visit him, and that they will provide proof that a lavish life of casual sex with hundreds of nameless, faceless super-models, just isn’t for him. Yeah, if you haven’t figured it out already, the film suddenly down shifts, ultimately revealing itself as yet another riff on the old Charles Dickens story, A Christmas Carol. From there, as Connor’s wanton lifestyle is woven into the fabric of this still celebrated family-fable, we can only strap in for the ride, telegraphing each step of plot right down to the moment when Connor Mead will deliver his final heartfelt reconciliation sermon to, in this case, a car-load of slack jawed fucks.

As the ghosts appear in tandem, Connor commences his journey into self-reflection and is subsequently forced to confront past mistakes, missed opportunities, the harsh reality of his worth in life, as well as those feelings he has long kept buried. Most poignant is his past: shooting backwards to his childhood, he catches a glimpse of his parents (Heather Wilde and Scott Powers) - one year before they died - in happier times, and is nearly brought to tears. Also rendering him near-speechless is the night Jennifer (played by Christa B. Allen, who also played a young Jennifer Garner in the infinitely better "13 Going on 30"), his first and only love, passed him up for a chance to dance with a oh-so-cute football player, even though, deep-down, it was him she truly wanted, but, like him, never voiced aloud. His attempts to console his young self plays out as strangely touching. Most moving however is the scene in the bar where Uncle Wayne is instructing his teen self in his snake-like Casanova ways. “You don’t ever want to be crushed again? Feel that pain again, do you?” An observing Connor’s reply is a curious, “Yes.” The present and future, although lacking the power of the past, does provide some context for Connor’s sudden change of heart, and his desire to make things right with Jennifer and those around him that he begrudgingly still loves. Is it believable? Not even close. Connor is still an asshole, and his sudden claim of moral lucidity, I sense, will pass with time – but a happy ending is a happy ending, and that's what this film promises from about the moment McConaughey makes dough-eyes at Garner’s character.

As the film wound down, I found myself straining for more moments with Douglas’ reptile-like Uncle, if only to find out what made him tick, and if he, in passing, sought his own form of retribution. Alas, it never comes. Douglas makes his first appearance on the screen with his dick in his hand, and as the credits gear to roll; he, drink in hand, swaggers over to Emma Stone’s 16 year old character and promptly puts the moves to her. Yeah, that’s about as good as it gets here, I’m afraid. Oh yeah, I have to mention this one actress, Noureen DeWulf. Standing way the fuck out from the pack of over-paid Garner’s and McConaughey’s, Noureen DeWulf provides an interesting, albeit brief, turn as Mel, Connor’s long-suffering Bob Cratchit -like assistant. Even though I knew better, I was sincerely hoping that she would be the object of McConaughey’s affection – real affection, I mean. This woman (the only remotely likable female character in the movie) showed more headstrong assuredness than any of the females in the cast minus, say, Emma Stone, and every time she appeared onscreen, I thought I was watching a better movie than I actually was.

As if hoping to add a provide a symbolic illustration of Connor’s bleak, hollowed out interior, “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past” was filmed in wintry Massachusetts and, I won’t lie to you, I actually thought it added something to the piece. Maybe it’s the notion that even in the coldest, darkest of places that goodness and hope can still flourish. Or maybe I’m just talking out of my ass. Either way, avoid this like the plague!