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Meeting its relatively low expectations, the new action-comedy (or `academy') Six Days, Seven Nights offers very little in terms of originality, excitement or romance. And I say low expectations because the script from a first time writer (Michael Browning) and the director is the recent lobotomy victim responsible for last year's reprehensible Father's Day (Ivan Reitman).
The story could be written on the back of a matchbook – dumb-girl and dumb-guy go to Hawaii; dumb-girl gets a call from her boss and has to fly to another island with pilot old-guy; their planes crashes and they fall in love. That's it. No cannibals on the island, no radios made out of coconuts and no giant spiders. I will say with no shame that Gilligan's Island was more groundbreaking in terms of desert seclusion. Actually, Six Days comes off as a bad hybrid of Gilligan and Romancing the Stone.
The dumb-girl is named Robin Monroe (Anne Heche, Wag the Dog). Her first encounter with old-guy Quinn Harris (Harrison Ford, Air Force One) is at the airport as he prepares his prop engine plane to haul Robin and her dumb-boy beau Frank Martin (David Schwimmer, Friends) to a remote Pacific vacation haven. The scene bares a striking resemblance to an earlier Ford film, as Robin repeatedly questions the ability of Quinn's aging craft to safely deliver her to their destination (think Solo, Leia and the Millenium Falcon in Star Wars).
Thirty minutes later, Robin and Quinn are stranded on what I can only explain as the biggest deserted island in the history of the world. Why would something this huge and beautiful remain undeveloped by conscienceless vacation kingpins? I dunno either, but these two duds predictably use the setting as a backdrop to bicker and then fall in love. YAWN!
Their only foil, other than the script, is a ship full of dirty pirates led by Broken English's Temura Morrison. These pirates would apparently rather see Robin and Quinn dead than harmlessly stranded on the island. Now that I think about it, I would also rather see them dead.
Back in civilization, dumb-boy Frank thinks his fiancée is dead and quickly proceeds to flog Quinn's piece of ass wife six ways from Sunday. If these two were stranded on the island, Frank could have knocked her out with a coconut, used her carcass for a boat and rowed back home, using her ample bosom as personal flotation devices. If anyone cares, her name is Angelica and she is played by Problem Child 3 star Jacqueline Obradors. I didn't think anyone cared.
While Ford looks good for 64, his acting skills leave something to be desired. His range is microscopic and his best acting is done when his character is unconscious. You know there's big problems when Schwimmer outshines you. Another huge flaw is the lack of chemistry between Ford and Heche, who handles her role a bit more capably despite being young enough to be the daughter of her wooden screen co-star.
The scenery is quite lovely and keenly shot by Michael Chapman (Raging Bull). But, the big finger of shame points fully at producer/director Reitman, who has plummeted from the upper echelon of Hollywood comedy creators (Animal House, Stripes) to the lowly depths of uninspired, by-the-numbers Hollywood crap. Flush it away, America. Flush it twice - just to be sure.
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