At no point during a movie heavily advertised as a "chick flick" should the warm and cuddly feelings be replaced by a sense of utter bewilderment. But such is the case with "Elizabethtown." Written and directed by critical darling Cameron Crowe, this picture will have the audience thinking "Say What?" more than evoking fond feelings of Crowe's "Say Anything."

The movie is actually a far cry from its advertisements. The love story between Drew Baylor (Orlando Bloom) and Claire Colburn (Kirsten Dunst) feels too much like an afterthought, seemingly thrown in for the sole reason of selling movie tickets. At this juncture in her career, Dunst appears to be limited to only playing the superfluous, not-a-care-in-the-world female. Bloom is reduced to a whiny schoolboy who seems dumbfounded at the fact that Southern people offer hospitality.

There are problems everywhere in the script. In the beginning, Drew is suicidal because he lost a shoe company $1 billion because of a bad design he was responsible for. What? Did his company order 10 million before it realized there was a defect? Did it steal all of Drew's personal salary? What was wrong with the shoe? Not to nitpick, but this opening scene leaves the viewer in a perpetual state of confusion as the movie barrels on.

The interactions between Drew and Claire are worse. In their first meeting, Claire, who only occasionally remembers her Southern accent, talks to Bloom like she's a stalker. She is supposed to be a cute flight attendant, yet she comes across as an annoying freak when talking to Drew (who does get comedic points for his looks of disgust). Later, Drew and Claire engage in what is supposed to be a romantic moment, as they talk on the phone for hours. Then — get ready — the movie employs a montage sequence of this momentous event. A phone montage? Did Crowe run out of cheesy lines? Did he think it would look meaningful watching Bloom sit and stand in different positions during this discussion?

Thankfully, their relationship becomes nothing more than an afterthought from this point on, as Bloom has to engage in the obligatory "finding himself" moments and reconnecting with his now deceased father.

Crowe just puts too many ideas in this part of the film. There is the old friend struggling with fatherhood, there's his father's ex-lover, there's Drew's mom and sister coming to town and, somewhere in the background, is the love story. Crowe expects the audience to be enamored by all of the subplots and characters. We are supposed to be enthralled by the stereotypical small Southern town. But all we get is a sense of confusion over which story we are supposed to care about.

It certainly can't be the love story, not with Dunst plowing through lines like, "Most of the sex in my life has not been as intimate as that kiss." Padded by approximately 10 seconds of dead silence, we are left to ponder the line and also fall in the love with the character. Say what?

This article was published in The Marquette Tribune on October 13, 2005.