A pedestrian thriller that performed reasonably well at the US box office, The Perfect Guy gets an inexplicable (if small) bow this side of the pond.
anaa Lathan is a successful sort Leah, keen to put the career on hold for a bit so she can settle down and pop out some kids with her other half, Dave (Morris Chestnut). But Dave isn't ready for a major commitment, so Leah gives him his P45 and hits the town. Fairly sharpish she meets the offensively handsome, instantly aggressive Carter (Michael Ealy), who woos her like she's never been wooed before. It essentially involves being a knight in shining armour, and riding her seven ways from Sunday week. So far, so Joe Eszterhas... But Carter is full blown, fully certified broken biscuits. And when she finally reaches Sunday week, she decides to go back to the sane arms of Dave.
arter doesn't like this at all. So sets about being proper movie mental. Like, how does this guy manage to brush his teeth, dress himself and function well enough to travel from place to place mental.
his is a film with a talented core cast, who all deserve better material. It isn't just bad, but in Lathan's case plain insulting. Woman want baby. Man no want baby. Meet man who might want baby. Fall for man.
Beats chest and throws crap at a random passer-by.
his type of overly earnest, belligerently "steamy" material is fine when you establish a noir like set-up (ala Eszterhas) and have fun with it. The Perfect Guy is just functionally made, lacking any real style and even less substance.
athan manages to elevate herself above the material on more than one occasion, but this is silly, inane stuff that didn't deserve a cinematic release.