The True Indignity of "Your Place or Mine"

Also, where have all the eyebrows gone, and Eminem is tangling with the Housewives?!?

Some people play music while they work; I prefer TV noise, which is how I’ve come to half-watch a lot of guilty-pleasures, or pleasure-pleasures, or — in the unfortunate case of the new Reese Witherspoon/Ashton Kutcher effort Your Place Or Mine — just guilts. I love a good rom-com, and even usually a bad one. I watched all of Something From Tiffany’s and some Justin Hartley Christmas movie on Netflix that I wanted to rewrite entirely, yet never felt annoyed about losing my time to them. But when Your Place or Mine ended, I felt actual disappointment in myself for bothering to finish it. Because I knew. I knew it was not my movie. I suspected from the jump, when Ashton and Reese couldn’t conjure a believable friendship even over Zoom, but I really knew 10 minutes later when Tig Notaro committed a grievous sin. Spoilers ahead, although I don’t believe in spoilers when it comes to rom-coms, unless the ending involves the central couple getting sucked into the earth’s core. (Spoiler thoug…