Father of the Bride remains the most saccharine and sentimental effort of Alan Silvestri's career, a significant achievement in and of itself. A score so sugary it has actually caused cancer in lab rats, it's completely bereft of the heart and humor it strives so nakedly to communicate. Silvestri's treacly melodies operate with the same heart-tugging shamelessness as a commercial for starving children, with attempts at comedy as broad and obvious as old knock-knock jokes. It's as free of subtlety and restraint as a sledgehammer to the groin, and somehow even more painful.