In the last few weeks due to shit news home and abroad, I needed relief short of a lobotomy, and by chance came upon my own personal solution — romantic comedies, dumb stories about heartbreak, redemption and finding love at the end. Anything to circumvent the times, indulging in sappy, pulp fiction.
Starting with “Maid in Manhattan,” followed by on titles on Netflix, Amazon, and Crackle  — there’s a respite-comfort in a predicable plot with charming characters, near-exactly opposite in real life.

The latest came this weekend, with Netflix offering “Two Weeks Notice,” a 2002 rom-com staring Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant, and was surprisingly better than anticipated — some of these type movies suck really bad, avoid Matthew McConaughey rom-coms, they’re just sad — though, the quality of ‘Two Weeks‘ was diminished by a stomach-churning cameo appearance of the cretin of our age.
A flashback 15-years in the making, and T-Rump was already playing the asshole card. Grant plays George Wade, a super-rich, successful New York land/building developer, — the plot details are convoluted with several strings hanging — and he moves in the same circles as T-Rump in business. Wade does seem legit, though.
About mid-way in the movie, Wade and Trump meet at a party. His name is mentioned earlier in an up coming property deal, but out of nowehere, there’s the most-repugnant face in the world.
Here’s a dialogue short I did myself:

T-Rump: “Wade.”
Wade: “Trump”
…
T-Rump: “So, who’s the new cheif counsel? If she’s any good, I’m going to steal here away.”
Wade: “I doubt it. She quite loyal to me…”
T-Rump: “Let me be the judge of that…” (And stalks away)
Wade (to his back): “All right…not intimidated…I’ll lead you to her…”

One of the great downers of cinema.

Especially if the scene makes you nauseaous, nearly-ruined the movie. However, it all works at the end, like we knew from the beginning.
The late-great Roger Ebert summarized the Rom-Com in his review of the movie:

Romantic comedies are the comfort food of the movies.
There are nights when you don’t feel like a chef who thinks he’s more important than the food.
When you feel like sliding into a booth at some Formica joint where the waitress calls you “Hon” and writes your order on a green and white Guest Check.
Walking into “Two Weeks Notice” at the end of a hectic day, week, month and year, I wanted it to be a typical romantic comedy starring those two lovable people, Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant.
And it was.
And some of the dialogue has a real zing to it.
There were wicked little one-liners that slipped in under the radar and nudged the audience in the ribs.

Until the romance is T-Rumped…

Maybe next, “Hope Floats“…?

(Illustration out front: Donald Trump, ‘Basic Shapes,‘ by caricaturist/illustrator Chong Jit Leong, found here).