Love and Other Drugs

It'll make you laugh! It'll make you cry! It'll educate you on the evils of the pharmaceutical industry and the tragedy of Parkinson's Disease!

These are grandiose aims for a film. They can only be made by a director as fervently earnest as Edward Zwick. Responsible for such socially conscious but frequently cliched films as "Glory" and "Blood Diamond," Zwick here aims to add heavy doses of sex and romance to his usual formula. It would be nice if he were aiming to expand his range, but he really just seems desperate to get butts in the seats.

"Love and Other Drugs" is not as bad as all this sounds. Jake Gyllenhaal stars as Jamie Randall, a pharmaceutical salesman who pushes Zoloft using his womanizing abilities--along with many ethically dubious gifts to medical staff which are common in his industry. The film functions as a vervy satire along the lines of "Thank You for Smoking". But then Jamie meets Maggie Murdock (Anne Hathaway), an early onset Parkinson's patient. Her condition isn't curable through medication. Can you guess what happens next?

Jamie and Maggie's relationship is more credible than it should be, thanks to Gyllenhaal and Hathaway. They've got charisma to burn, and they both know how to show one emotion while hiding another. But just when the film seems to be finding a new balance as a romantic comedy, we get more jarring tonal shifts. There are a couple of scenes with bawdy sex gags, including one in which Jamie gets an erection lasting...well, you know how long. Meanwhile, Maggie helps seniors go to Canada for medications and sees inspiring testimonials from Parkinson's patients. The film gets so emotionally confused that at one point, Jamie's brother has an epiphany about the emptiness of no-strings-attached sex in between boner jokes.

"Love and Other Drugs" veers so wildly between sex and sentiment that it feels like a very rough first draft of a Judd Apatow film. There are too many themes, too many character arcs and most of all, too many desperate attempts to both educate and entertain the audience. I never thought I'd say this, but the workmanlike Zwick is better off sticking to his old, stoic style. Sometimes a prosaic film is preferable to a manic one.