What would you do if you were a shy, pious department store clerk eking out a living in a New Orleans ghetto and were told you only had three weeks to live? Donate your life savings to your church and community? Help out the seemingly orphaned kid next door? Tell your secret crush you love him? Or would you just chuck everything and go to an obscenely expensive hotel in Europe for some gourmet meals and extreme sports?
If you're Georgia Byrd (Latifah), it's the last one.
But don't mistake such a sudden shift in personality as a sign of character development. After all, she accomplishes that with one glass of in-flight champagne. Except for the occasional shot of Latifah trying and failing to generate some pathos for her character's approaching demise, there is nothing to differentiate this flick from any other fish-out-of-water movie: Miss Byrd dun drop in on those high-society folks and teaches 'em the error of their ways with her plain, home-spun wisdom, she do!
Those folks include a Louisiana senator and congressmen (Kathleen Blanco was too busy defending submerged buses to appear) in the pockets of Matthew Kragen (Hutton), owner of the department store chain Georgia just quit, as well as Kragen's mistress, the hotel's Chef Didier (Depardieu) and a bevy of staff.
Of them all, the only interesting character is Kragen and the only good performance is by Depardieu.
Kragen is an ugly parody of a successful businessman: He has an inflated ego and is cold-hearted, suspicious and unfaithful. Consumed by a bill he needs passed to expand his business (and create more jobs for people like Georgia and her would-be love interest, played with one-note by LL Cool J), he worries Georgia will somehow derail his plans. Eventually, he comes to realize the value of her carpe diem philosophy. The scene is emotionally dead, but at least Kragen's character arc is interesting. Barely.
As a chef trapped destroying his dishes for his health-conscious diners, Depardieu puts to shame every actor stupid enough to share a scene with him. He's also given a cooking metaphor that, if it had been used throughout, could have made this film a soufflé instead of poorly cooked hash.
Woulda, shoulda, coulda. Last Holiday's mess is non-concealable, no matter how much ketchup is poured on top.