My husband brought this home from the video store, so I could watch something while stuck home sick. The sort of sick where you could never concentrate on a book, but a sorta silly, light, romantic flick sounds just right (that, and a bowl of chicken soup). Well, he meant well.

My first thought (as some others post here also) was that the house MUST be fake...it's not only isolated alone on the beach, but set on moorings into the loose sand, and so close to the ocean that the surf waves go directly under the house! This looks so obviously dangerous (in hurricane country, in THE FALL), so potentially disastrous that I was sure filmmakers had simply CGI'd the whole thing (or used movie magic to plunk a cute B&B into the surf).

But I have to tell you guys, thanks to "teh interwebs", I can say that the house, "Serendipity" is very real, is indeed near Rodanthe and except for some window dressing and shrubs, appears mostly as it does in the film. You can rent it yourself, off season, for $1710 a week (or about $3850 in summer)! Go for it! But...interestingly, the house has severe problems. The second thing that struck me after "would be washed away" was "what about the plumbing/electrical? in that surf?", and sure enough, "Serendipity" was condemned for a break in the sanitation, caused by overwash from the ocean. (They are rebuilding.)

And the house isn't from the "Civil War". Not to mention that Viola Davis, playing "cliché black best friend" (thankless role for a fine actress, last seen in "Doubt"), is not remotely old enough that her GRANDMOTHER could have built anything in the Civil War! HELLO! that was 150 years ago! Try great-great-GREAT! (In reality, "Serendipity" was built in 1988, laughably recently.) 

The basic film is built on a typical Nicholas Sparks weeper, which means a lot of coincidence and trite predictable happenstance. It is also aimed in a very pandering way towards "women" -- you know, us women who love B&Bs, fusty antiques and knick-knacks...who dream of romance and guys who look like Richard Gere and dancing in the moonlight. Don't give us plot, or thoughtful character development; just set up some mechanisms and bring on the love scenes!

Gere plays a plastic surgeon, who lost a female patient during a routine surgery for a benign cyst on her cheek. Of course, she died of an overdose of ANESTHESIA, so you wonder right away why the surgeon is guilted up and not the anesthesiologist! HELLO! where is that guy? Why is the wrong doctor feeling guilty?

Gere has come to pout and confront the woman's husband, and is staying at the remote B&B...who should be there, why the ONLY OTHER PERSON IN THE INN...Diane Lane! She's a lonely divorcée, with rotten kids, and an ex-hubby who wants her back. While she's trying to decide about that, the cliché best black friend has her subbing as hostess at the B&B.

Now, in the real world, if this set up ever even happened, the doctor would look like Ernest Borgnine...and the lonely divorcée, like Rosie O'Donnell. He'd spend his vacation horndogging 22 year old girls on the beach, while she sulked and thought about going on a diet. But this isn't the real world; I digress.

The couple confess all, fall in love, a hurricane hits...they make love, fall in love, he has to go away, he dies and she cries a lot about that. The end.

There, I've saved you from it; now you don't have to torture yourself or any male acquaintances (husbands, sons, boyfriends) from sitting through this tripe. Very wearying.

Someone else asked why Diane Lane, a perfect tiny woman (whom filmmakers seem to love to cast, because she's just pretty and thin enough that most women would like to look like her, but she's 45ish and not over-the-top, so she isn't threatening) is constantly covered in big tarp-like shawls. This would make sense if she was chubby, but she isn't.

Anyways, someone throw a pretty, paisley shawl over this film. So we don't have to watch it. Conclusion: read a book, unless you are too sick. If too sick, go to sleep.

Sentiment: negative