Haphazardly toss in 15 more subplots, half a dozen wacky canine-reaction shots, a wall-to-wall soundtrack of romantic golden oldies, and an adorable young moppet who just wants to have flowers delivered to the girl of his dreams, and you have a fluffy soufflé of shameless sentiment and sitcom wackiness executed with the kind of flailing desperation that’s generally accompanied by an overactive laugh track. Valentine’s Day looks like Marshall’s director’s magnum opus of pandering schlock. Decades into his career, he’s finally achieved his lifelong dream of roping half of Hollywood into helping him make an unofficial cinematic adaptation of Love, American Style.