Annie Braddock (Johansson), recent university graduate, thwarts her long-suffering mom's wishes that she become a stockbroker and takes a summer job nannying on Manhattan's Upper East Side, where everyone, with the exception of Paul Giamatti as a snivelling, dishonest, selfish financial-analyst dad, has been horribly miscast. Johansson, who might have made a go of this in the early days, say, right after Ghost World, is now far too much the pneumatic Michael Bay-action-flick movie star. (And admittedly, watching her lips, bust, hips and booty bustin' out all over the place is one of the scant joys of this mess.) But she's a heroine who can't call a doctor, read a cookbook, talk to a boy, or communicate the most rudimentary of thoughts to anyone around her, let alone stand up for herself. Instead of wanting to see the world through her eyes, you mostly just want to shake her out of her stupor. Also, Laura Linney has finally encountered a part she can't play, probably because it was so badly written - a totally unsympathetic (but supposed to be sympathetic) one-dimensional absentee mom. And that's
Clearly, screenwriter/directors Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini have never set foot in the world they are trying to skewer, and that's a problem when the whole story depends on driving it through with the hottest and sharpest of lancets. Which is too bad, because their last film, American Splendor, was an instant cult sleeper. They need to stick closer to home.
The Nanny Diaries
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