Whoever The Lucky One was meant to be, it certainly wasn't me.
If you've read any of Nicholas Sparks' novels (I haven't) or suffered, sorry, seen any of the film adaptations (Message in a Bottle, The Notebook etc.) then you'll understand the formula: Woman in need of love meets man but an obstacle (death, another woman/man etc.) bars their way to rumpy pumpy and never-ending happiness but something will occur (argument, misunderstanding, accident etc.) resulting in the death or change of heart of the cause of the obstacle and the opportunity for the heartthrob to prove his prowess and win the girl.
If that was a plot spoiler for you, you evidently didn't watch the trailer (the entire film in 30 seconds – and better for it!) and deserve only to watch such turgid, pox-ridden flicks as Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close.
There are no surprises in The Lucky One other than how utterly predictable the plot and outcome are and how thoroughly stereotypical and two-dimensional the principal characters turn out to be. Oh, I suppose I was marginally surprised at how a young man who essentially stalks the sister of a dead soldier is able to turn that into a plus point Scott Hicks, who deservedly won plaudits for Shine and then ripped the hearts out of the adaptations for two superb novels (Snow Falling on Cedars and Hearts in Atlantis), again directs with a join-the-dots approach with similar results: Yes, you'll know what the picture is supposed to be but you won't want to frame it and hang it over the fireplace.
I don't dislike the film because it's a rom-com, I dislike it because it's a really badly made rom-com. It's certainly no Notting Hill and doesn't even reach the dizzy first-floor heights of Hicks' own The Boys Are Back.
The presence of Blythe Danner should be a plus point (and trust me, we need every plus point we can find in this offering), but she's been written another predictably fanciable, quirky grandma role who is too beautiful, too 'wise', too absolutely perfect to be realistic or engaging. Zac Efron's heartthrob marine, Logan, is equally unbelievable; a good-looking, almost perfect, animal-loving, child-adoring, non-judgemental, placid, mechanic, painter, pianist who just happens, let's not forget, to be an obsessive stalker!!! What's lovable or dependable about that? Taylor Schilling is as bland as Beth, as Jay R. Ferguson is paint-by-numbers bad as ex-husband/pantomime villain. It's barely worth saying much more about them lest the venom I spit corrodes my teeth on the way out.
Stuff happens. All the stuff you know is going to happen happens. The holes are big enough to swallow entire ranches. Nothing is fully thought out or explained, everything ties up neatly and you'll either leave the cinema in love with the pastel world of Hollywood's schmaltziest minds or you'll escape to the car park just about in time to vomit on your shoes without ruining the carpet.
I need a new pair of Ted Bakers.
If you've read any of Nicholas Sparks' novels (I haven't) or suffered, sorry, seen any of the film adaptations (Message in a Bottle, The Notebook etc.) then you'll understand the formula: Woman in need of love meets man but an obstacle (death, another woman/man etc.) bars their way to rumpy pumpy and never-ending happiness but something will occur (argument, misunderstanding, accident etc.) resulting in the death or change of heart of the cause of the obstacle and the opportunity for the heartthrob to prove his prowess and win the girl.
If that was a plot spoiler for you, you evidently didn't watch the trailer (the entire film in 30 seconds – and better for it!) and deserve only to watch such turgid, pox-ridden flicks as Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close.
There are no surprises in The Lucky One other than how utterly predictable the plot and outcome are and how thoroughly stereotypical and two-dimensional the principal characters turn out to be. Oh, I suppose I was marginally surprised at how a young man who essentially stalks the sister of a dead soldier is able to turn that into a plus point Scott Hicks, who deservedly won plaudits for Shine and then ripped the hearts out of the adaptations for two superb novels (Snow Falling on Cedars and Hearts in Atlantis), again directs with a join-the-dots approach with similar results: Yes, you'll know what the picture is supposed to be but you won't want to frame it and hang it over the fireplace.
I don't dislike the film because it's a rom-com, I dislike it because it's a really badly made rom-com. It's certainly no Notting Hill and doesn't even reach the dizzy first-floor heights of Hicks' own The Boys Are Back.
The presence of Blythe Danner should be a plus point (and trust me, we need every plus point we can find in this offering), but she's been written another predictably fanciable, quirky grandma role who is too beautiful, too 'wise', too absolutely perfect to be realistic or engaging. Zac Efron's heartthrob marine, Logan, is equally unbelievable; a good-looking, almost perfect, animal-loving, child-adoring, non-judgemental, placid, mechanic, painter, pianist who just happens, let's not forget, to be an obsessive stalker!!! What's lovable or dependable about that? Taylor Schilling is as bland as Beth, as Jay R. Ferguson is paint-by-numbers bad as ex-husband/pantomime villain. It's barely worth saying much more about them lest the venom I spit corrodes my teeth on the way out.
Stuff happens. All the stuff you know is going to happen happens. The holes are big enough to swallow entire ranches. Nothing is fully thought out or explained, everything ties up neatly and you'll either leave the cinema in love with the pastel world of Hollywood's schmaltziest minds or you'll escape to the car park just about in time to vomit on your shoes without ruining the carpet.
I need a new pair of Ted Bakers.