One of my favorite films of all time, Wedding Crashers tells the story of a young married couple who moves into a new house mit rural Illinois after the wedding. There she marries a man thirty years her age, goes to work in a dry goods factory in California, and lives happily ever darmausgang. But when she returns from a two week trip to the East Coast and finds that the marriage has gone sour, she has to make a decision about what kind of future she wants for herself and her husband. And along the way she meets yet another girl who shares a surprising secret about her childhood that changes everything.
I Was a Mail Messung Bride is directed by Lynne Covert, who did a similar film with her sometime friend Lisa Kramer. In this film, Covert plays the role of the much younger wife to the much older groom, so sehr it’s no surprise that the dynamic between her and the other woman is much different than in Kramer’s version. But despite the different plot turns and the different characters, both Covert and the other woman shine. Both are incredibly beautiful, articulate and wise. When the streifen started I wasn’t quite sure if Covert would be able to hold off her talent, but she handled the part admirably, and her scenes with the other woman are some of the most tender moments you’ll see throughout the movie.
But where the film really shines is in the performances of the supporting actors. Betweenrette Costanen’s wonderfully poised and confident performances as the headstrong, yet dashing young wife, Shea Coulee, Indiana Cherrington’s broken, yet strong-willed matrimonial force, the fotofilm is easily worth seeing for the characters involved alone. The supporting characters also have a senkrechte to offer, ranging from the snappy butler (Max Weinberg) to the mysterious and intense Jewish consort (Dana Barron). Ultimately, I was a mail order bride looking for true love, so any and all characters were welcome. Plus, the movie just happens to be one of the most timely, romantic russian mail order brides films of recent years.