In the flat romantic comedy “New in Town,” Renée Zellweger plays Lucy Hill, a shark in spike heels who wields pretentious corporate jargon like a machete. An aspiring master of the universe who works at the Miami headquarters of a food-processing giant, Lucy is dispatched to an underperforming branch in New Ulm, Minn., to oversee slash-and-burn operations. After a few minutes of listening to her running off at the mouth, you may never again want to hear “dialogue” used as a verb.
“The Uninvited” sounds like the name of a generic horror movie, which is more or less what it is. But when you stop to think about it, the title is actually a clue to the picture’s lameness. Words beginning with “un” do have a certain scary resonance — intimations of the unknown, the undead, the uncontrollable and the unholy — but “uninvited”? As in “not on the guest list”? Only in Hollywood could such a notion be a source of terror.
. (later).
Two gentlemen behind me kept up a lively, derisive banter — the kind of thing that would ordinarily drive me mad with rage but that in this case saved me a bit of work. Just at the moment when the kindly local sheriff left the heroine alone in a dark room, assuring her that no one else would get hurt — spoiler alert! he was wrong! — one fellow asked his friend: “Is this a commercial break? Because I need to go to the bathroom.”