Our Family Wedding

Cliche comes marching down the aisle hand in hand with cynicism in a film its hard to believe was made for any other reason that that somebody thought it might make some money. The premise - hilarity ensues when a Mexican woman and a black man marry - is the sort of thing Hollywood used to think was risque, but that was fifty years ago.

Why make this now? Why make this at all? Why has Forest Whitaker, last seen in Repo Men (which by comparison with this, suddenly looks like a classic of Blade Runner proportions), not yet fired his agent? The answers to these and other great imponderables are not to be found in Our Family Wedding, which trades entirely on the hope that it will attract the mythical mass audience of unquestioning idiots that executives like to believe lap this stuff up. Fingers crossed the box office proves them wrong: the last thing we need is a sequel involving whatever formulaic jokes a culture clash divorce comedy would be deemed to involve.