
2003 · Donald Petrie
For a cozy night in when you want zero stress and maximum banter — comfort viewing with fizz, perfect with a friend and a bottle of wine.
A women's-magazine writer takes an assignment to drive a man away in ten days and write up every cringe-inducing tactic; meanwhile an advertising hotshot bets his biggest account that he can make any woman fall for him in the same window. They pick each other, neither knowing the other is playing an angle, and New York becomes the arena for a full-contact battle of the sexes. Ferns are harmed. Poker nights are ruined.
Bright, fast, and gleefully silly — you watch two beautiful people sabotage each other while the chemistry between them keeps giving the game away. It's the kind of comedy where you laugh at the schemes and still root hard for the schemers.
Kate Hudson turns calculated awfulness into precision comedy — her weaponized daffiness lands every bit — while Matthew McConaughey absorbs the punishment with a grin; their chemistry is the whole engine of the movie.
Donald Petrie directs like a smart studio pro: he keeps the frame clean, the pace snappy, and the camera on his stars, letting the screwball construction — two con games colliding — do the work. Glossy 2000s New York looks great, and the escalating set pieces (a sabotaged poker night, a couples-therapy ambush) are built with real farce mechanics.
One of the defining hits of the 2000s romantic comedy boom, it became the reference point for the genre at full studio confidence — and, in hindsight, a late golden hour before the rom-com faded from theaters.
Reception & legacy: how How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days was received, argued over, and remembered →
The premise is pure screwball: a women's-magazine writer must drive a man away in ten days for a how-not-to column, while an advertising executive has bet his career he can make any woman fall for him in the same span — and neither knows the other is working an angle. It's the old Hawksian battle of wills in low-rise jeans, and Donald Petrie, a dependable studio hand (Mystic Pizza, Miss Congeniality), wisely just keeps the camera on his stars. Kate Hudson weaponizes daffiness with real comic precision — the love fern, the sabotaged poker night — and Matthew McConaughey absorbs the punishment with a grin, their chemistry so legible that the film became the reference point for what the 2000s rom-com could be at full wattage. A major hit in 2003, it now reads as a late golden hour: the studio romantic comedy at peak confidence, before the genre's decade-long eclipse. The yellow silk dress alone has had a longer afterlife than most films of its year.
Lines of influence