It’s tough being Anna Brady (Amy Adams). She’s dating an attractive cardiologist who buys her expensive jewelry and seems to genuinely love her. But, unfortunately, he hasn’t proposed marriage, and it’s tearing her apart. When he travels to Dublin on business, Anna decides to fly there and propose to him on Leap Day. This woman-popping-the-question-to-the-man business is apparently an Irish Leap Year tradition, so Anna is hoping her boyfriend—who obviously isn’t ready to get married—will enter into wedded bliss because of an archaic custom. Stupid idea.

Before she arrives at her destination, the plane is diverted and she’s dropped off in a jerkwater hamlet, where she meets a cynical bar owner named Declan (Matthew Goode, Watchmen), who agrees to drive her to Dublin. I wonder what’s going to happen next?

Ha, that last line is what we in the writing business call “sarcasm.” You see, because there is never any doubt as to what will happen next. Actually, the trailer for Leap Year gives you enough plot to surmise how this thing plays out, and guess what: you’ll be right!

Sure, I went into this review fully prepared for a disappointing performance, but that’s not particularly bad; my expectations were so low that anything above mediocre would qualify it as a success. Alas, even with a cellar-dwelling expectation level, Amy Adams and company couldn’t clear it. Leap Year manages to crater on all standards that a passable romantic comedy should be judged.

Start with the most important: the lovebirds. Neither Anna nor Declan are likeable, which is kind of a non-starter for a big-screen romance. She’s an idiot and he’s an a-hole. Throughout their time together, she does stupid things no normal person would do, like shower in front of a strange guy, single-handedly try to get her belongings back from three thugs, and stand up in the middle of a crowded pub and confess something very personal. Declan has the personality of a sea cucumber, mumbles insults under his breath, laughs at Anna’s travails, and rudely walks away from her after she stands in the middle of a crowded pub to confess something very personal.

Both of these wet noodles occupy a script that’s focused more on erecting romantic set-pieces than letting believable characters develop. That big, dramatic moment in the pub only exists to get Anna to a picturesque cliff in front of a setting sun for Something Really Romantic to happen. Other contrived pit-stops on their cross-country adventure include a wedding crash (who barrels into the middle of an obviously crowded church sanctuary?), which allows Anna a chance to see what True Love really is; a stay with a conservative Irish couple who insist Anna and Declan be married for some reason, so they of course pretend (with high-larious results!); and an extended layover at a castle, giving Declan ample opportunity to further criticize Anna—but there’s an awesome view at the top of the castle and, as we all know, it doesn’t matter how big a dick a guy is, if there’s a vista to be seen, love is inevitable.

Which is a good word to describe Leap Year: inevitable. The ending is inevitable. The clichés are inevitable. And considering my gut reaction to the trailer, I suppose the fact that the film is a predictable, unfunny, charm-free slog through the wastelands of emaciated romcom conventions is inevitable, too.

Here’s a feature I wrote on a Dambar Kadariya, a Nepalese man who has discovered great reward in taking care of the developmentally disabled.  (Appeared in the New Hampshire Sunday News, 2/21/2010 )

In 2001, Dambar Kadariya won the lottery. He didn’t score $50 million, but, for him, receiving word that he had been one of 50,000, chosen for a Diversity Visa– out of worldwide applicant pool of 30 million–to come to the United States, was nearly as exciting.

“It was like winning Powerball,” the Nepal native says, laughing.

Nine months of paperwork and bureaucracy later, Dambar’s plane touched down in New England, and he and his wife and unborn child were set to start a new life in Manchester, New Hampshire.  Now, eight years later, Dambar is a successful Direct Support Professional, serving his eighth year as an employee of Moore Center Services and sporting an impressive piece of recognition: the 2009 Region 7 New Hampshire DSP of the Year award.

“Dambar is a go-getter,” says Linda Perry, his supervisor at the community residence where Dambar cares for three individuals with developmental disabilities. “His relationship with the clients in the house is really good. He treats them with respect and in turn they respect him and will attempt whatever he’s asking.”

Dambar’s story begins in a small village called Mehele, located in the eastern end of Nepal. He grew up in this remote farming community where 60% of the village had no electricity. The buses rarely used the shoddily maintained roads. High school was three hours away and college was even further, a three days’ walk.

Yet he was determined to maximize his schooling and as he pursued his academic career, a common theme presented itself: Dambar’s compulsion to work with people. He earned his degree in education and economics and returned to Mehele to teach high school and eventually become the principal. And as a harbinger of what would await him in his second life, he was active in the disability community in his village.

“It’s not like over here,” he says. “There’s no Moore Center. All of the villagers are farmers and they have to work all day and if they have a child with a disability, often he or she isn’t given as much attention. It’s not that they didn’t care. They just didn’t have the time.”

So Dambar stepped in, seeing to whatever needs he could meet, be it providing clothes or food or even camaraderie.

“I just wanted to see what I could do to help,” he says.

He had no idea that this calling would eventually transform into a successful career, and the application for the Diversity Visa would prove to be the key. Despite the life he had been building in Nepal, Dambar wanted more; he wanted to see the world, find a place in a healthier economy and sidestep an increasingly volatile political situation in Nepal.  Defying enormous odds, Dambar got that visa and nine months later he would join his brother Chandra in the Queen City.

His first job was as a per diem respite provider, before joining Moore Center Services as a full-time direct support staff at its community residence on Douglas Street in Manchester. Shortly after, he moved to his current site, the house on Mammoth Road, and as the years ticked by, he came to realize that his job was more than just a job.

“I’m not doing it just for a paycheck,” he says. “Our clients, they are special people. But they need help and I get to help them. Yes, it is still work, but it feels like family.”

Which isn’t to say it’s not great to receive an award recognizing your service and professionalism. The Region 7 DSP of the Year, given jointly by the New Hampshire Developmental Disability Council and the Community Support Network, came as an enjoyable surprise to Dambar.

“I wasn’t expecting to win,” he says. “I feel like the hard work I did was recognized, and it made be proud to be a part of the Moore Center.”

This recognition came with a new found celebrity, as Dambar recalls the day he was walking in the mall and someone (who he sheepishly confessed he didn’t know) approached him and said: “Hey Dambar! Congratulations on winning DSP of the Year!”

Dambar tries to hide the glow as he tells this story, and the humility and selflessness that has defined his life nearly mask it, until he finally admits: “That was totally unexpected. What a great feeling!”

It is a Dangerous Man
And he killeth one of three
By thy slicked back hair and squinty eyes
Now wherefore killeth thou me?

The Dangerous Man’s fists are opened wide,
And he’s ready to begin,
With shoves and slaps and kicks and smacks,
May’st hear the violent din!

He holds me with his liver-spotted hand,
“Time to die,” snarls he!
“But wait, unhand me, wrinkled goon!”
Efstoons his hand slapped me.

He holds me with his tiny eye—
Powerless, I stood still,
And listened like a frightened child;
The Dangerous Man hath his will!

Exhausted, I collapsed on a stone;
I have no choice but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The squinty-eyed Dangerous Man:
The judge sprung me from jail, my record cleared,
Perturbed, did I drop
Out of society, I had my fill,
But then I saw the local cop.

The thug came up upon his left,
Out of the SUV came he!
And his gun shone bright, and on the right
His partner kicked him in the knee.

Higher and higher he screamed away,
He wailed like a baboon,
So I, the Dangerous Man, did beat my breast,
And kicked ass like a pudgy typhoon.

The thug hath collapsed into a ball,
Red as a rose is he,
Bleeding from the head before he dies,
Dude went down with ease.

The Dangerous Man beats his breast,
And cannot choose but hear,
The cries of the innocent boy and girl,
Into the SUV they veer.

And now the exposition came, and he
Was tedious and long;
The girl’s smuggling in her Chinese uncle,
And the bad guys think that’s wrong.

With corrupt cops and Triads in tow,
Who pursued us with yell and blow
Have made themselves a fearsome foe,
And, wow, do they want us dead,
So we drove fast, intent to beat their ass,
To their headquarters aye we sped.

And now there comes both fists and deathblow,
And I grew wondrously bold:
And bodies of the villains came tumbling by,
As dead as Solid Gold.

And through it all, my hands so swift,
I did rupture many a spleen;
But no man came close to laying fists on me,
My wardrobe did stay clean.

So now I’m here (I was just over there),
And I’ve got you on the ground:
Your bones are cracked and snapped, and check out my scowl,
(No one has a more serious frown).

At length did I find my voice,
Through the blood it came;
“This all seems so familiar,
Like it’s the same movie, under a new name.”

“There’s a girl in distress,
And round and round you fight,
And the faces do split with a thunder-fit,
And the predictable script doth steers us through!”

“Also, correct me if I’m wrong, for, as a villain,
Your fights I did follow,
It sure looked like a stunt man was doing most of the work,
If untrue, I find it hard to swallow.”

“You strike me, sir, as rotund and old,
Aged perhaps like a fine wine,
Or maybe more like a mug of leathery beer,
Or a bathtub of Moonshine.”

“God save thee, Dangerous Man,
From the scripts that plague thee thus!”
And intent on harm, he shot out his fore-arm
And snapped my neck with the thrust.

Full review here.