THE HOTTIE AND THE NOTTIE
Running Time 91 minutes
Written by Heidi Ferrer
Directed by Tom Putnam
Starring Paris Hilton, Kathryn Fiore, and Christine Lakin
If Paris Hilton has a talent for anything besides inheriting the name of a hotel chain and posing for ugly photographs, there is no evidence of it in the abysmal load of trash called The Hottie and the Nottie. I would like to tell you this gross-out-on-camera is every bit as bad as its title implies, but that would not be entirely true. It is much, much worse.
In the first five minutes of this freak show, a nerdy creep named Nate, played by a dreadful actor you will want to instantly forget named Joel David Moore, is dumped by his girlfriend, Jane, who runs him down with her car and has the intelligence to make a memorable exit—from his life and from the entire movie. Since Jane is played by the lovely and spirited Kathryn Fiore, the only real actor in the film with any spark, I hated to see her leave so soon, and spent the rest of the movie awaiting her return, to no avail. After her early departure, the inmates take over the asylum. Nate packs up and returns to L.A. to find Cristabelle, the girl he has loved since they were 6 years old. It’s now 20 years later, and Cristabelle is the hottest woman in Southern California. (They can’t mean the miscast Paris Hilton! But they do, and it gets worse.) Men line the beach every morning with signs that say “Marry Me!” But Cristabelle has no husband, no kids, no main squeeze and no prospects. She’s an events planner who is emotionally and sexually unavailable, because she made a vow in the first grade to protect and enrich the life of her best friend and roommate, a scabrous cretin named June Phigg (Christine Lakin), and the repulsive June is the reason Cristabelle never gets any action. To get Cristabelle, you have to win over June, who is covered with warts and body fur and has rotten teeth and infected toenails. June is like one of the living dead in a George Romero film. She is a fountain of pus. So while Nate devotes his time to getting Cristabelle in the sack, she devotes her attention to finding a boy for the fetid June. The movie drags in a number of eligible suitors who specialize in nose picking and belching, but it’s not until the arrival of a drop-dead hunk named Johann, played by an actor from Estonia named Johann, that the ignition gets flooded. Johann is a blond, blue-eyed Harvard graduate who flies planes, plays the guitar and poses for the cover of Perfect Abs. Oh, yes. He’s also a dentist, and when he finishes filing June’s teeth, waxing her body, sandblasting her skin, clearing up her zits and washing her hair with cleaning fluid, the “nottie” looks like a camera-ready Michael Kors model, while the “hottie” just heads for the landfill. The moronic Nate discovers June’s not so bad without fever blisters and scabs, and the horny, frustrated Cristabelle goes down the sink with the used Band-Aids. The fact that none of this is remotely believable might be the fault of the casting, but the director, the writer and everybody else connected with this movie needs a reality check. It’s the kind of junk that can only be watched by people chewing gum.
It is doubtful that Paris Hilton could say “Which way to the ladies’ room?” with any true conviction, but nobody helps her overcome her obvious obstacles here. The director, Tom Putnam, smears her lips with what looks like raspberry jam and allows her to walk around with eyes at half-mast and breasts heaving from see-through nighties like Amsterdam hookers. The writer, Heidi Ferrer, puts in her mouth things to say like “Life without orgasms is like a world without flowers.” But the best laugh comes later: “Our bodies are earth suits—vessels to help us pass from this planet to the next.” Meryl Streep couldn’t say a line like that with a gun to her head. But so what? The script is so bad that you don’t know what they’re talking about half the time anyway. In the final 10 minutes, for no explainable reason, they even force their star to pass gas and go “Oops!” Grounds for a lawsuit, if you ask me.
Paris Hilton is no hottie, but the movie is definitely a nottie—in more ways than one.