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A friend asked me a few months ago whether any of the movies on my Terrible Tuesdays list, all of which I’ve rated 1/2 a star on Letterboxd, had the potential to be any good. And it seems like I’m joking, but I’m entirely sincere when I say—Gigli. Yes, the movie that became synonymous with “box office bomb.” The movie that briefly killed the careers of its megastar leads and utterly killed that of its mega-successful director. The movie that remains pretty much unwatchable to this day. Gigli is one of the strangest and saddest examples of studio interference and the double-edged sword of star power in Hollywood history. Watching it pisses me off, because it is pointedly offensive and genuinely awful. But it also makes me kinda sad.
So what is this movie, exactly?
Larry Gigli, pronounced “really,”1 is a low-level mob enforcer and village idiot. He’s tasked with kidnapping a federal prosecutor’s intellectually disabled brother Brian. His boss does not trust him to handle this job, with good reason, and hires a “contractor” named Ricki to babysit Gigli as he babysits Brian. Being a macho idiot, Gigli is resentful; but he also shrewdly observes that Ricki is insanely hot, and pretty much immediately starts trying to fuck. Ricki slightly less immediately reveals that she is a lesbian. And that’s when the hijinks really start to ensue.
Who is responsible for this?
Christ, where to begin. Perhaps with the writer/director, Martin Brest. Brest had had some success in Hollywood at this point, having directed Midnight Run, Ben and Matt’s shared favourite movie; Scent of a Woman, which earned Al Pacino his first Oscar; Beverly Hills Cop, the most financially successful comedy of all time (adjusted for inflation) that is also in the Library of Congress; and Meet Joe Black, which gave us this masterpiece of a moment:
This movie made $142 million worldwide.
What I’m saying to you is that Martin Brest was a bonafide hitmaker. Critically, commercially, the man knew what he was doing. Ben Affleck had wanted to work with him for his entire career, and I get it. Midnight Run fucks. And the original script was a darker mob comedy, which sounds fine and also timely, what with The Sopranos revolutionizing television and everything. But then, two things happened. The first was that Brest is simply not as good a writer as he is a director. A surmountable problem on its own! But the second was that Jennifer Lopez joined the cast.
There is something about Bennifer that warps the world around them. I don’t know why this specific celebrity couple has such a hold on us, but it does, and it all started with Gigli. Ben and Jen started dating while filming this movie, which means at least two people get some happiness out of this movie’s existence. And once the world went into a frenzy about the two of them, the studio wanted to take advantage. They wanted this dark mob dramedy to be a bubbly romantic comedy, and fought mightily with Brest about it. Once test audiences rejected the original ending, the studio had what it needed to demand extensive reshoots. Post-production shut down for an unheard of eight months. Brest himself put it this way:
In the end I was left with two choices: quit or be complicit in the mangling of the movie. To my eternal regret I didn’t quit, so I bear responsibility for a ghastly cadaver of a movie. Once key scenes were cut it became like a joke with its punchline removed, endless contortions could never create the illusion that what remained was intended. Extensive reshooting and re-editing turned characters, scenes, story and tone upside down in the futile attempt to make the increasing mess resemble a movie. For the first time in my career I had become a true collaborator — not in the benign, creative sense, but rather that of one who, in violation of their true allegiances, cooperates with occupying forces. And for that kind of compromise, self-castigations far exceed any possible public ones.
Does anyone deserve a special shout-out (derogatory)?
I breezed past this earlier, but let us rest on Brian the kidnapping victim for a second. I called him intellectually disabled. The movie calls him the r-slur, a few times. Even worse, though, is Justin Bartha’s performance.
As a society, we moved on from this performance way too quickly. We let him be in National Treasure literally a year later, when he should have been in zero movies any years later. Even if everything else had worked out, this character—from conception to execution—would be an albatross around the movie’s neck the way Mickey Rooney’s yellowface is around Breakfast at Tiffany’s’s.
Is anyone forgiven?
Hear me out: J.Lo innocent. Everything about this movie is misguided at best and malign at worst, but Jennifer Lopez’s movie star radiance remains undimmed here. She’s basically playing a broader and less motivated version of Karen Sisco in Out of Sight, which is still a good use of her strengths2. And there are some deeply charming moments between her and Affleck where they seem to actually catch each other off-guard, and delight in doing so. Some chemistry is just un-fakeable.
Where did it all go wrong?
From what I’ve read, the original script wasn’t a masterpiece, but it was workable. This movie really could have been a decent, unremarkable hit that ranked near the middle of its respective stars’ filmographies. It’s not unheard of. Weirdly enough, Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall encountered a similar situation while filming The Big Sleep—the fervor around their marriage inspired the studio to reshoot and re-release a film that came out way less coherent than it had been. Only nobody cared that the movie’s plot made no sense! The dialogue sparkles, it looks gorgeous, and Bogey and Bacall eye-fucking each other is just too fun to watch.
Alas, 2003 audiences were a pack of vultures at the feast, knives out and beaks bloody over Bennifer. We were craving a fall from grace. This turkey was doomed.
Why did you keep watching?
Honestly, I had heard that J.Lo propositions Ben Affleck for oral sex by saying “turkey time. gobble gobble.” and I had to see that shit for myself. Sunk-cost fallacy took me the rest of the way through.
Any redeeming qualities?
Besides these two lovebirds meeting, there is the fact that Ben credits his experience with Martin Brest as teaching him the most about directing. So if we had to go through Gigli to get to Argo, I’m fine with it.
Do you regret watching it?
Honestly, no. I don’t recommend it in any way. I didn’t have a good time watching it. But I famously love Ben Affleck, and I can’t entirely explain why. This is his worst performance by a Cuban mile, yet seeing him on-screen scratches an itch for me, like eating blue box mac & cheese.
That’s mine. And imma stick beside him.
On the next Terrible Tuesday: The Christmas release that unleashed hell unto the world.
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