When faced with a movie that has no redeeming qualities whatsoever, certain questions are bound to arise. The most pertinent among them is not 'why?', but 'how?' The reason why this film got made is because, on paper at least, casting two hot Hollywood stars in a romantic comedy makes sound commercial sense. 'How' is a little more tricky.
How, for instance, throughout what was presumably a fairly standard production schedule - the impression that it was conceived, written, produced, shot, edited and marketed over a weekend is, perhaps, deceptive - did no-one notice that not a single element of it achieved a basic professional standard?
How, given the practice of screening dailies, was it not immediately apparent that Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez have such a catastrophic lack of screen chemistry that they appear to be from entirely different species?
How, in the long months from pitch meeting to premiere, did it escape detection that the script, if such a thing ever existed, was written by a gibbon? That Stevie Wonder was doing the lighting? That the camera was threaded with scrunched-up Izal toilet paper? That the editor had recently lost both hands in an industrial accident? That the director was absent from the set during the entire shoot? That the soundtrack had seeped in from a Saga-produced documentary on cruising the Norfolk Broads? That the best way to capitalize on Lopez's Latino bombshell image was probably not by casting her as a nouveau hippy lesbian? That even one shot of Ben Affleck's hairy, sweaty armpit is grounds for pulling the plug on anything? That deploying a mentally-challenged character for comic effect is unspeakably offensive?
How, basically, did this film ever get a release? Which is not to say how did it get a nationwide US release in over 3,000 theatres? But how did it get a release in any media format whatsoever? Beyond what we know of rampant narcissism and naked opportunism, it will remain a mystery.