In the first several minutes, some of the cast talk some unrecognizable accent they consider Southern. My family have been Southerners for over 300 years, and I have never known anyone who talks this way. Moreover, some of them they act dumb. Southerners have the same distribution of intelligence and culture as anyplace else, and some of the cast are an embarrassment to Southerners, and to the classy author, Ronda Rich. Otherwise, it is a clever story, original and entertaining. Several minutes into the film, the actors mellow their vocalisms and antics, rendering it more enjoyable to watch. Some supporting cast members are superb. Too bad it took me three attempts over two years before I could get past the opening scenes of braying fake Southerners. Worth watching.

Abby (Lauren Holly) is a very famous author of romances set in the South. Personally, though, she has been burned in the game of love and resists her mother's constant efforts to find a match for her child. Often, Abby is out on book tours, anyway, so she is away from her parent's influence. Fans flock to her appearances at bookstores and libraries; one male fan in particular, Walter (Toby Hargrave) seems to follow her from stop to stop. But, once Abby steps into small but beautiful Bliss, Mississippi, she is met with more enthusiasm than usual. This is because the whole town thinks she would make a great match for their widowed mayor. Everyone from the bed and breakfast owner (Valerie Harper),to the tallest and the smallest is going to try to encourage Abby to lose her heart. At first, she resists, for she spies a good looking man, Spencer (Cameron Bancroft) in a coffee shop and likes what she sees, even when he steps on her open-toed shoes. Ouch! But, soon, she learns that Spencer IS THE MAYOR and, hey, this matchmaking business may be the right item. However, there are complications with Spencer's children, the town's wannabe belle, Lorraine, and also with Walter. Even with the force of a whole community behind you, will true love run smoothly? This loveable movie has the beauty of Holly, the charm of Bancroft, and the great supporting cast. Also enfused with the lovely scenery, costumes, nice script, and talented direction, what's really a cause for complaint? You won't hear it from the romcom crowd, no indeed!

Lauren Holly, a popular author who translates Shakespearean prose into tweet-sized bites, is forced at gunpoint into a wormhole and transported to the planet of Bliss, Mississippi, where she speaks like Senator Beauregard Claghorn and is fed dangerously large amounts of orange juice and MDMA laced with abysmally flat, sophomoric melodrama. Until she has acquired a sufficiently high and consistent blood level of these chemicals to make her compliant she is imprisoned by Valerie Harper in a funeral parlor that eats small children and puppies, and has a roof with mold problems so severe that it sprouts Triffids.

Holly's manager is mostly immune to the blissful blandishments as long as she can regularly recharge her wifi inoculation, but this proves problematic as wifi has been banished in the name of Doctrinal Purity and survives only in a few locations, where it is regularly harassed by Mary Kay representatives who eat cupcakes and burn cell phones until the batteries explode. Those caught using cell phones are required to surrender the device and are subject to arrest by testosterone-challenged Deputy Ricky who supplements his income with part-time liquor delivery, and constantly speaks into his shoulder mounted radio even though he is the only remaining police officer in Mississippi and therefore has never received a reply.

Holly's mother Kudzu, (although she uses the alias Kazoo for security reasons),is a hyper-intelligent, pan-dimensional dachshund from Georgia, another planet located north of the 49th parallel. Kudzu/Kazoo communicates via an extremely realistic ventriloquist dummy named "Mama," that has working opposable thumbs and an accent equal parts Harper Lee, Truman Capote, Butterfly McQueen, Charlie McCarthy, and an Oscar winning Hattie McDaniel. Mama has been trying for years to mate Holly with suitable gentleman callers that she advertises for in the classified section of Glass Menagerie Monthly, hoping to produce the super being known as Alan Smithee in Canada, and the Kwisatz Haderach among the Bene Gesserit.

Unbeknownst to Holly, almost all the denizens of Bliss also have gene-splicing on their collective mind, and plan to join her to a creature who made millions early in the roofie boom and by giving seminars on how you too can get rich flipping distressed properties for no money down. He teaches his son to offer caffeine instead of apologies to old ladies run down by skateboards, is addicted to Grecian Formula, which he imbibes intravenously, and is prone to making bizarre, arcane statements such as, "I am the mayor of bliss." Believed to be a widower, the mother of his children actually escaped after faking her own death with a large dose of Rohypnol (flunitrazepam) suddenly, last summer.

Holly, although heavily medicated, initially retains enough good sense to be unnerved by "the mayor" and his odd progeny, particularly the male, who disguises his malformed cranium by constantly wearing an ill-fitting helmet despite the fact that his skateboard has no wheels. Sensing Holly's disquiet, the offspring are quietly disposed of by feeding them to Rhoda's B&B, which has always been dependent upon the kindness of caterers -- a move even the mayor's ex-in-laws approve in writing with a poorly-timed, hand delivered note.

With her manager held incommunicado in Bliss' dungeon, and Mama desperate, there remain only two other impediments to the union. One is just a batty old dame who once had an affair with George Wallace and was quoted as saying that she didn't object to Obama's presidency "as long as he kept the White House lawn trimmed and came on every Thursday to do the windows." She is sentenced to be burned at the stake.

The other stumbling block is a worshiper who has been following Holly around the solar system trying to get her autograph in waterproof ink for his invisible sister Ophelia. Protected from bliss by a layer of aluminum foil between his scalp and toupee, he kidnaps Holly and attempts an aggressive deprogramming procedure. This fails when she is quickly rescued by the prompt action of a vigilant Prayer Chain that was organized to replace the Amber Alert system when Mississippi eliminated all professional law enforcement. It's the Iron Maiden for this fellow.

Holly, having been injected with pure petroleum byproducts distilled from Barbie & Ken no longer requires mind altering drugs and acquiesces with only a fleeting thought that maybe she should have settled for Jon Bon Jovi, Edward Burns or Kelsey Grammer, after all. A well-timed fade-out mercifully removes any possibility of the viewer having to witness the inevitable, Bliss- required, ritual public copulation of Holly and the Mayor and the stage is set for the sequel, "The Town That Knew Nothin' 'bout Birthin' Babies: Idiot's Delight."

Spring comes, a frog is dissected, people marry and die, the Canadian Film Tax Credit Administration gives the Canadian Taxpayer something else to be proud of, David Cronenberg is suitably impressed, and the closing credits flash by at stroboscopic speed making it impossible to read the names of those fully responsible.

XYZ

ASCII Indented Character Test-O-Meter: nil