Jack (Ben Affleck) is a hotshot and thriving writers agent in Hollywood. He built his company from the bottom up and has a fine crew of folks working for him, too. Not only this, he lives in a gorgeous house in Malibu and is married to a beautiful lady, Nina (Rebecca Romjim). Also in the house is Jack's father (Howard Hesseman) who has had a stroke and is subject to bizarre behaviors. Surprisingly, Jack is not happy and signs up for a nighttime writing class taught by a stuffy Brit (John Cleese). There, he is told to start a journal, which will not only improve his writing but will give clues to his psychological needs and wants. Reluctantly, Jack does this. But, there are pitfalls ahead. A former classmate, who knows Jack is very famous, has sent ten screenplays written by his girlfriend (Bai Ling) for Jack's evaluation and has never gotten a reply. Now, this man is out for revenge. He breaks into Jack's house and beats up the agent, while taking the diary. Since the perp's gal works for a minor newspaper, the rag is about to print Jacks every secrets. Also, there is trouble between Jack and Nina, deep trouble. How will Jack work his way out of this crisis? Despite the fine, fine cast, which also includes Gina Gershon, Mike Binder, Kal Penn, Adam Goldberg, and Jerry O'Connell, in addition to the ones listed above, this film is a big flop and a big mess. Oh, there are a few funny scenes, like Jack and his crew faking karate stances across from the employees of a Chinese restaurant who are doing the real moves! Also, Ling is pretty funny as the evil lady of blackmail. Yet, the movie is, in this viewers opinion, totally pointless. Especially surprising is the ending, where romance burnt to a crisp might still rekindle. Affleck is one of my favorite actors and this is his worst film, worse than Gigli. Thank God he went on to true glory with Argo, State of Play, and many other fine flicks. As for this one, avoid it by a wide mile.
