Lindsay Lohan get into more adult-oriented fare with the new Fox romantic comedy Just My Luck without alienating her tween fanbase in the process. Two years ago, Lohan was a 17-year-old kid who looked like a 17-year-old kid. But here she has the tight, valiant smile of a faded ingenue, like Marilyn on the beach, like someone trying to cheer her way past a haunted memory. While Just My Luck makes for a perfectly harmless date movie, it never quite capitalizes on its nifty, fairy tale-like premise.
“Just My Luck” is the story of Ashley Albright (Lohan), a bright young thing whose good luck is surpassed only by her own obliviousness to the misfortune of others. Fittingly, she works at a celebrity-centered public-relations firm, where her primary source of stress is party planning. The vapidity of her workplace is mirrored in her exchanges with her co-workers, who are also, conveniently, her best friends: Dana (an affect-less Bree Turner) and Maggie (the truly dreadful Samaire Armstrong). Presumably, this movie was designed to be a fun romp, and in that it fails. Directed by Donald Petrie, the man behind the equally cheerless “comedy” “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” this movie goes on too long in the course of achieving absolutely nothing. And that’s bad luck for everyone.
Her “Just My Luck,”romantic comedy needs more than just luck – and the rising British boy band McFly – to overcome an achingly stupid script. It needs a miracle.
The film ultimately suffers from the same problem that bedevil so many other entries in the romantic comedy genre: it just isn’t that funny. It is the same safe, harmless fluff piece we’ve seen countless times, a programmer that produces more half-smiles or dry chuckles than it does big laughs or infectious humor. It’s formula filmmaking but there must be something about this formula that’s working (for general audiences) since Hollywood keeps churning out these by-the-numbers flicks.
Lohan’s good work in movies like “Mean Girls” and the “Freaky Friday” remake is a faint memory as she struggles through antics, unfunny pratfalls and squirmingly bad set pieces, like one where she begs diner patrons for their leftover bacon strips.
The biggest winner here is Lohan, who successfully graduates from tween fare to carrying a film geared more for thirtysomethings and couples. Despite her penchant for ending up as tabloid fodder, there is something charming and watchable about Lohan onscreen, a brightness and savvy that bodes well for her career if she can manage not to derail it.
“Just My Luck” is perfectly efficient in its own way, delivering exactly what anyone would expect in a Lindsay Lohan movie with this premise. I wish it delivered more. It’s safe, competent and bland. I had a fairly monotonous time. You may like it more. For your sake, I hope so.
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