Kate & Leopold

Before James Mangold was busy deconstructing the myth of the gunslinger in 3:10 to Yuma or giving a gritty, sun-drenched eulogy to a superhero in Logan, he directed a movie where Hugh Jackman wears a cravat and gets very, very upset about the quality of modern toast. In the grand timeline of the 2000s, Kate & Leopold sits in that strange, shimmering bubble right before the romantic comedy was swallowed whole by the Judd Apatow "bromance" era. It’s a film that feels like a glossy DVD special feature come to life, a product of the Miramax machine that somehow managed to retain a soul despite a production history that was, frankly, a bit of a mess.

I watched this again recently while my cat was systematically knocking every single pen off my desk, and I found myself remarkably charmed by its refusal to be cool. This is a movie that thinks a man writing a letter with a quill is the height of erotic tension. In 2001, we were all a little bit in love with the idea of a simpler time—mostly because the internet was still making that screaming-demon dial-up noise and we hadn't yet realized that "connectivity" would eventually mean getting work emails at 11:00 PM.

The Man Who Would Be Duke

The real reason to revisit this film is Hugh Jackman. At the time, he was still primarily "that guy from X-Men," and there was a genuine question as to whether he could carry a film without metal claws coming out of his knuckles. As Leopold Alexis Elijah Walker Gareth Thomas Vaughan Olunick Sebastian Faulkner, Third Duke of Albany, he doesn't just play a fish out of water; he plays a fish who is deeply disappointed in the water’s lack of manners.

Jackman’s physicality is what saves the movie from drifting into pure Hallmark territory. He has this stage-trained posture that makes everyone else on screen look like they’re made of wet noodles. Whether he’s trying to understand the mechanics of a toaster or mounting a white horse to chase a mugger through Central Park, he commits with a sincerity that shouldn't work but absolutely does. His chemistry with Meg Ryan is interesting, if a bit lopsided. Ryan was at the tail end of her reign as the Queen of Rom-Coms, and you can see her playing Kate McKay as a woman who is fundamentally exhausted by the 21st century. She’s cynical, she’s corporate, and she’s essentially playing the straight man to a guy who thinks a dishwasher is a magic box.

A Time Traveler’s Guide to Brooklyn

The plot is your standard "portal in the sky" fare. Liev Schreiber plays Stuart, the eccentric scientist ex-boyfriend who discovers a rift in time under the Brooklyn Bridge. Schreiber is hilariously frantic here, a far cry from the brooding fixers he’d play later in his career. He accidentally brings Leopold back to 2001, then promptly falls down an elevator shaft, leaving the Duke in the care of a very skeptical Kate.

What makes the comedy work is the "fish out of water" rhythm. There’s a scene where Leopold is forced to film a butter commercial—because, of course, a 19th-century Duke is the perfect spokesperson for "Farmer’s Bounty"—and his aristocratic refusal to lie about the "vile" taste of the product is comedy gold. It’s the kind of high-concept silliness that felt effortless in the early 2000s, but today would probably be over-explained with twenty minutes of multiverse theory.

The film also benefits from a stellar supporting cast. Breckin Meyer is delightful as Kate’s brother, Charlie, who essentially teaches Leopold how to "mack" on women in the modern world, only to realize that Leopold’s 1876 manners are actually a superpower. Natasha Lyonne pops up in a brief but quintessential Natasha Lyonne role, and Bradley Whitford plays the quintessential corporate sleaze with the kind of smarm he perfected in The West Wing.

The Miramax Scissors and the "Incest" Problem

Looking back, Kate & Leopold is a fascinating relic of the Miramax era. If you watch the theatrical cut, the ending feels a bit rushed. That’s because the original version had a plot point so bizarre it’s a wonder it made it past the pitch meeting: it was revealed that Kate was actually Stuart’s great-great-grandmother, making the central romance... well, a genealogical nightmare. After test audiences rightfully pointed out that accidental incest is a bit of a mood-killer for a Christmas rom-com, the studio hacked it out.

The film has slipped into a bit of obscurity lately, overshadowed by the more "serious" work of its director and stars. It’s a "forgotten oddity" because it doesn't fit the modern mold of a sci-fi film (the science is absolute nonsense) or a modern romance (it’s way too earnest). But there is a craft here—from the warm, golden cinematography by Stuart Dryburgh to the sweeping score by Rolfe Kent—that elevates it above your standard cable-movie fare.

In an age where every movie needs to be part of a cinematic universe, there’s something deeply refreshing about a film that just wants to tell a story about a guy who really loves his dog, his valet, and a woman who works in market research. It’s a beautifully shot, well-acted piece of fluff that understands that sometimes, the best special effect is just Hugh Jackman looking wistfully at the New York skyline while wearing a velvet coat. It’s not a masterpiece, but it’s a damn fine way to kill a Sunday afternoon.