My favorite groaner moment takes place during a backyard barbecue, where everyone drinks Peroni beer and makes sure the labels face the camera.

I find it difficult to find this slice of cheesy romance to be entirely inedible.

A movie whose idea of both romance and comedy is permanently stuck in 1985, like a moldy slice of gabagool, oh marone!

Little Italy is so stereotypical of cultures and sexual orientations, goes so out of its way to be different for the sake of being different, and oddly plays things safe when you think the script will try something new. It’s just bizarre.