A scenario I’d like to see one day is where a man sets out to write the Great American Love Letter, thinks he’s got the perfect words that describe his love for a woman, only to see her reject him because the letter is just too darn overwritten, pretentious, poetic, where simplicity would have done justice. “Three Little Words” is not at fault for not providing that, but it follows instead of creates. Present again is another guy (Dan Mancuso) trying to craft yet another love letter that’s supposed to encapsulate everything he loves about the woman (Breanne Munro) in the picture frame, who looks like the result of Shannon Elizabeth and Elizabeth Pena crashing into each other hard enough to create a new person. “Three Little Words” bases itself on performances without words, but that doesn’t stop the screechy saccharine music score from providing what it presumes to be emotion, but is nothing more than sentimental annoyance. It really overreaches.
Not only that, but there’s also such well-remembered scenes as the frustrated writer crumpling up sheets of half-scribbled paper and throwing them on the floor, one of them even hitting his dog’s head at one point. And there’s a time passage too, where he falls asleep and wakes up to a thicker head of hair and an even more protruding beard. Love can be expressed in different ways. This isn’t one of them. It’s far too desperate to make an impact and attempted hilarity is a lost cause.