I almost saw this at an actual movie theatre (an art-house theatre, no less!) but couldn't make it there in the one whole week it played, but yesterday I finally saw it on cable and...well...I wasn't disappointed, that's for sure! Madonna has done it again: YET ANOTHER BOMB! When will this woman learn? When will the studios learn? (Or perhaps they already have, since this film was largely dumped, with little fanfare and deadly word-of-mouth.) One would hope that being directed by her talented husband, who's created some interesting and/or terribly entertaining work, would bring out the same quality Madonna showed in "Desperately Seeking Susan"; alas, it just isn't meant to be, for here she is, at her very worst: singularly convinced of her own greatness, the smugness permeating every frame she's in, made all the more unbearable by her wavering faux-British accent, an accent that only underscores the fact that her speaking voice is immature in quality and not especially pleasant. This may sound unnecessarily cruel but LISTEN to the woman, and LOOK at her films of, say, the past decade: like a latter-day Bette Davis, there is an unmistakable brittleness to not only her carriage but to her very face and body, which here, despite the warm photography displayed throughout the film (perhaps its only saving grace), are done no favors. To her credit, the entire affair is so misbegotten that one wonders if the world's greatest actress on her best day could do anything with this mess. No one involved escapes unharmed: Bruce Greenwood actually seems pained to be on-screen, though poor Jeanne Tripplehorn seems to carry herself as if she's actually in something good, which had me thinking all the while, "Denial ain't just a river in Egypt!" Adriano Giannini, son of Giancarlo Giannini, star of the Italian original, "Swept Away...", is, like his father before him, immensely attractive, and isn't altogether bad (despite winning a Razzie nomination for "Worst Actor"), but, like almost everything else about this production, it all comes back to Madonna, on whose shoulders rest the blame. Why her? Why not her husband, director Guy Ritchie? Just who do YOU think was behind this remake? What actress wouldn't want nearly every shot of a movie to be centered on her, with only a relative nobody sharing the screen? Oh sure, Ritchie deserves some blame: surely he - or someone - ANYONE! - should have, and could have, taken his lead aside and insisted on something bordering on ACTUAL FEELING in her line readings (for her performance is so wooden it's a surprise the rest of the cast didn't get splinters), or at least display a semblance of warmth...but she seems resistant to be anything but a cinematic black hole. Above and beyond anything else, this is strictly a vanity project for its star so she is ultimately accountable for it. A film like this, an "Odd Couple"-ish, war of the classes, should be light and fun, with leads who can bounce off one another with witty, even romantic, dialogue, for what else can a film whose plot involves two disparate people stranded, really be? Honestly, I don't think anyone involved knew exactly the tone they were trying for; it succeeds neither as comedy (I defy you to laugh even once) or romance (Madonna's ice-princess routine precludes ANY chemistry). It's not even bad enough for us bad-movie lovers to enjoy. A real shame...