OK, this may seem like a small nit to pick. But before we get started on “You, Me & Tuscany,” can we ask this one nagging question: Why can’t movies be realistic about luggage?
When Anna (Halle Bailey), our charming hero in this travel-porn rom-com, arrives in Italy for an open-ended stay, she’s carrying a purse and a tote. You could fit maybe a water bottle, a paperback and one change of clothes in that tote. Much later, when she’s preparing to leave, she’s carrying the same miraculous, featherlight tote that allegedly held all her lovely outfits — plus shoes!
What is she, Mary Poppins with the carpet bag? We’re not asking for gritty social realism here, people, but would it have hurt to give her a wheelie?
OK, rant over — but see, that weightless luggage is a perfect metaphor for “You Me & Tuscany,” directed by Kat Coiro, a movie as frothy and insubstantial as the foam on a nice cappuccino. It’s also about as believable as some of the woefully stereotypical Italian characters here. The gardener, Giuseppe, for example: He looks like Pavarotti and sings soaring arias each morning as he prunes the bushes. We rest our case.
But hey, we’re in Tuscany. And it’s gorgeous. And so is Regé-Jean Page, the love interest for Anna — but even the dashing “Bridgerton” star disappears next to those stunning rolling hills and vineyards. And then there’s the culinary porn — including the most perfect bruschetta you’ve ever seen. But we’ll get to that.
We begin in New York. Anna awakes in her chic apartment with a to-die-for view, makes a cappuccino, puts on designer duds and takes the upscale dog for a walk. But when she returns, the house’s real owner (Nia Vardalos) is there, furious to see Anna in her clothes.
You see, Anna is merely the house-sitter. A professional house-sitter. It’s her career! No, we didn’t know that was a thing either.
Anyway! Anna ends up at a hotel bar, ordering a burger and a beer, eating her sorrows away. She meets Matteo (Lorenzo de Moor), a nice Italian in town on business. They connect, and he tells her about the (empty!) villa in Tuscany and large extended family he’s left behind. Anna admits she always dreamed of going to Italy to be a chef, but had to drop out of culinary school to care for her sick mother. Still, she kept the plane ticket she once bought. (Don’t ask why she didn’t get a refund. This is a rom-com.)
Anna and Matteo end up spending a chaste night together, and he leaves a note the next morning telling her to chase her dreams. Notably, Matteo does NOT invite Anna to stay in his house. This is important.
Because, when Anna does fly to Italy and can’t find a hotel because there’s a festival going on, she goes to Matteo’s villa, finds a key in the flower pot, and moves in. And makes more cappuccino.
When Matteo’s mother and grandmother arrive, the latter a sprightly gray-haired lady wielding a broom as a weapon, it’s assumed Anna is a criminal. Police are called. But then they see Anna’s diamond engagement ring — she’d found it in the villa’s junk drawer — and everyone assumes she’s Matteo’s fiancee. Anna goes along with the lie.
Meanwhile, Anna has met dishy Michael (Page), Matteo’s British-born adopted brother and also his cousin, and is improbably single. What’s even more improbable is that he is “unlucky in love,” as he tells Anna. OK, right.
The two have chemistry. But there’s the whole Matteo wedding thing, remember? The women in the family are busy planning it. And then … Matteo himself shows up. He’s wondering why Anna is posing as his fiancee. Hijinks ensue, as they say.
Will Anna and Matteo actually get married, though THEY have zero chemistry? Or will Anna find the true love she deserves, both with a man and, fulfilling her cooking talents, behind a stove?
A big hint comes when she’s hungry one evening and there is only, magically, a loaf of bread in the kitchen and some of the best-looking tomatoes in Europe.
A few drips of olive oil, some salt and pepper, maybe a touch of garlic — Anna produces a mean bruschetta. Magically, too, Michael drops by for a few bites. And for once, we’re transported by this movie’s dreams of Tuscan romance. All it takes is some really good bread and tomatoes.
A real suitcase might also be nice.
“You, Me & Tuscany,” a Universal Studios release, has been rated PG-13 “for some strong language, and sexual material.” Running time: 104 minutes. Two stars out of four.
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