Chris Azzopardi

Though Reinhart and Pedretti chew through the scenery with dedication, the film, directed and written by Meredith Alloway, is a vibes-only pastiche that has little to add to the satirical queen-bee subgenre besides some updated slang.

While De Mornay was chilling as a woman haunted by a miscarriage and her husband’s suicide, Monroe is merely chilly, lumbering like a mopey teenager stuck with reciting unintentionally funny lines that aim for sexy but kill the mood.

Ultimately, the romance’s sentimental plotting needs more of Heather’s grounded logic and far less of Jack’s greeting card sayings. She’s much too sensible to lose herself so quickly to his brand of bland.

The movie’s intermittent flippancy is its lifeblood, with Christoph Waltz’s cheeky vampire hunter delighting even when he seems to be off doing his own thing.