Good Luck Chuck
by Rick Villalobos
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Anyone who is a fan of the lovely Jessica Alba should see this movie. She is an actress with chops and a knack for slap stick humor. Oh, yes, and she’s hot. This romantic comedy has an immature charm, crossing the lines of political correctness while attempting to earn a laugh. It doesn’t work. Its mixture of bad jokes and sexual innuendos would make any porn star’s jaw drop. No bad joke intended there, of course.
Unfortunately, when hope is rendered and a bad film can no longer be saved, there is only one thing a trusting film buff can do. Ask the film gods for assistance and have them call it a rap, quickly. Once tickets are bought and it’s an hour and ten minutes into the film, there is nothing to be done, except taking the torture like a man. The only other option is to walk out of the theater. It is a drastic move, but it’s not a fair one. Plus the whole point of this film is to see the goddess Jessica Alba in her panties. What else is there?
All optimists will eventually see the good in the bad. In other words, a sucker is born every minute, and so is a romantic comedy. Although, Good Luck Chuck is not a gut-busting, fart-in-your-seat laugh riot, the premise is mildly interesting. Charlie (Dane Cook) is hexed as a youngster in a game of spin the bottle. Years later, and now a dentist, he believes that any woman who is desperate enough to sleep with him will find their husband. Thus, he becomes a babe magnet and meets his dream girl, Cam (Alba), and risks losing her if they pursue a horizontal relationship. What a poor bastard!
Man meets woman after some kind of hardship. They fall in love and then suddenly fall out of love. Will they eventually get together? It’s a possibility, if man doesn’t mess it all up by the time the credits roll. It’s a combination of these elements that doom any romantic comedy into cinematic limbo. Good Luck Chuck doesn’t stray from the template that has been exhausted in Hollywood for the past decade. Chuck is anything but lucky—he is a disaster waiting to happen, falling short in achieving even an amusing anecdote.
Rick Villalobos is a writer in Chicago.
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