Despite experience mostly insisting caution, certain markers still allow one to naively daydream that a new Netflix comedy might be worth more than a background half-watch while ironing. A big name, an experienced writer, a genuine studio-trained director, some substantive source material, anything to allow us to glide on the brief hope that we’re not in hammy, Hallmark-adjacent territory.
This thinking sometimes works – 2019’s Let It Snow was based on a solid YA novel, 2021’s Moxie had Amy Poehler in front of and behind the camera, this year’s Players benefited from the considerable charm of star Gina Rodriguez – but it too often makes precious little difference. For Mother’s Day in the US, the streamer has Mother of the Bride, a breezy comedy that arrives from director Mark Waters, whose indie days included The House of Yes and whose studio days included Mean Girls, Freaky Friday and Bad Santa 2, enough to give one a brief moment of optimism. But after the tudum has been and gone, it’s clear that we’re being spoon-fed more of the same unremarkable competence, sugar with no salt, calories with no nutrition.
The clue was less in who was behind the camera and more in who was behind the laptop, the script written by Robin Bernheim, a Hallmark and Lifetime alum whose Netflix work includes The Princess Switch movies. The writing is as pat and perfunctory as one would expect from such a résumé, rooted in sitcom cliche (hands on hips when angry – check), never able to sneak its way out of the easily expected.
The mother of the title is of the doting, borderline obsessive kind, fixated on her daughter’s future and terrified of what might happen if it doesn’t fall in line with what she’s planned out in her head. Mother Lana is played by Brooke Shields, extending her relationship with the streamer after leading a ho-hum Christmas movie back in 2021, and daughter Emma is the iCarly star Miranda Cosgrove.
When Emma announces her surprise engagement, Lana is horrified, but the full horror arrives when she heads to Phuket for the wedding and meets the father of the groom, her college ex Will (a mostly shirtless Benjamin Bratt), a guy who left her out of the blue never to return. Despite being an extremely accomplished career woman who manages an entire laboratory (this might be the first ever romcom to use the phrase “tumorigenic mechanisms”), she of course turns into a stuttering buffoon in front of both her ex and a handsome doctor, played by a mostly shirtless Chad Michael Murray, also at the resort (she really does say the perennial line “I’ve got underwear older than him”).
It’s partly an older-than-usual love triangle comedy, partly a mother-daughter story about an overly attached empty nester and partly a study of men keeping their abs into their 50s (Wilson Cruz as Bratt’s brother is also with a six-pack and without a shirt), a combination that should tick enough boxes for some. Shields and Bratt are at least pros relative to the material, which allows them to makes the most of Bernheim’s relentlessly trite dialogue, their potentially more poignant what-if dynamic often vaguely threatening to move us.
Cosgrove is a little trapped in her overemphatic Nickelodeon mode (a scene of her using a laptop will surely make meme-lovers happy), but she’s also lumped with the script’s eye-rolling attempt to stay relevant, playing an influencer whose sponcon wedding is being used as a way to boost followers. Lessons about family and forgiveness are ultimately far less persuasive than the scenery, the boost of an on-location shoot that might not quite rival 2022’s extremely adjacent Clooney/Roberts confection Ticket to Paradise (one set piece is litigiously similar), but it adds a gloss that’s otherwise missing from the point-and-shoot workmanship of it all.
It’s a slight cut above just how very bad these things can get, but not enough to edge it toward something that would deserve your full attention. So errand away, Mother of the Bride will be just fine playing in the background.
Mother of the Bride is out now on Netflix
