“The Lake House” – “The Lake” + “The Beach” – Magic Mailbox – Keanu = “Nights In Rodanthe”

When this movie was posed to me as being next on the “watch” list, I mistakenly referred to it as “The Beach House.” Apparently, in my mind, I had confused it with that movie about Keanu Reeves and his magical mailbox called “The Lake House.” My bad. But I really wasn’t that far off in my supposition.

Since Rodanthe is on the Outer Banks and George Burns Richard Gere’s (holy shit does he look old) character was from Raleigh, there was some cool, familiar scenery. Beyond that, however, this was one of those films that was basically over after an hour and then felt the need to extend it to the requisite hour-and-40 minutes or so.

Not to give away too much of the plot (there really wasn’t much of one anyway, I promise), but the always-underrated Diane Lane plays an estranged wife, Adrienne Willis, who is serving as the innkeeper of a friend’s beach house in Rodanthe as a favor. Gere is the angry surgeon, Paul Flanner, who travels to the OBX to confront a family that is suing him for wrongful death in a surgery gone wrong. Obviously, he’s the lone guest in the B&B, and he and Adrienne rather quickly and suddenly start telling each other’s deepest, darkest secrets. Toss in Hurricane Coincidental, the speedy resolution of very complex problems (apparently, in a weekend, no less) and a relatively tragic ending, and voila -- you have a Nicholas Sparks novel brought to life.

Yes, it sucked, but more in a way where you’re mad at yourself for letting the events of your life unfold in such a way that leave you having to watch such a flick; after all, being mad at a movie like “Nights in Rodanthe” for sucking would be akin to being pissed at the sun for being all, like, bright and sunny and shit.

But it certainly wasn’t a horrible movie, and in many respects, it was more profound than I expected. Of course, the bad Southern accents and the slightly stereotypical depiction of North Carolinians arise, but you come to expect that in movies like this. These factors notwithstanding, it was at least watchable—which was more than I expected (I have a low ceiling in any project where Gere is involved) when the opening credits of “The Beach House” started rolling. Hell … at least it made me want to go to Nags Head as soon as possible.