FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE

Screwball comedy about a duck, a diamond ring, and a mixed-up wedding.

Josie Flynn is a bit cynical about happily-ever-after, having just dumped her philandering husband Damien, who’s been shagging the office tart, it seems. But going to New York for her cousin’s wedding is a way to forget about him for a while. On the flight, she meets Matt, a scruffy but charming rock journalist. They meet again at the Statue of Liberty—and make a dinner date. Later, however, Matt has a few drinks with the pretty publicity flack for the untalented boy band he’s profiling, forgets about the time, and stands Josie up. Miffed, she heads for cousin Martha’s house and throws herself into beautifying rituals and a little therapeutic shopping. Matt checks out every bridal consultant in the phone book, beginning with A (Martha’s consultant starts with Z, of course) and ends up at the wrong nuptials, in the passionate grip of a little old Jewish lady. Meanwhile, Damien sees the error of his ways, buys an enormous diamond ring, and hops a plane. Several equally obnoxious New York taxi drivers somehow get everyone to the church on time but—oh, no!—Martha and the best man are caught having sex atop the hors d’oeuvres only minutes after the vows. Damien, searching desperately for Josie, drops the ring near a picturesque pond, where it’s promptly gobbled by a hungry mallard. How to get it back? Laxatives, forcibly administered. Damien, naturally, is in a state by the time he catches up with Josie, who wants nothing to do with him, thinking instead of Matt. Damien leaves for the airport in a huff, an indignant duck stuffed in his valise, and Matt, who’s arrived at the right wedding at last, can’t believe his good luck.

And customs officials can’t believe Damien’s duck—or story. But so it goes in this cheeky romp from a bestselling Britisher with a great sense of fun.