No Strings Attached C-

In Theatres. Rated R. 106 Minutes.

What No Strings Attached has going for it: Natalie Portman, Ashton Kutcher, Kevin Kline, Chris “Ludacris” Bridges. What it doesn’t have going for it: dialogue, believable characters, good editing, a single original thought. Now, I know my co-bloggers will bust my chops for tossing Kutcher up there in the “going for it”- list, but I think Ashton is pretty good when he wants to be, and he really is likable in a film that desperately needs a likable person.

Here’s the basics: Portman is a doctor in residency and doesn’t have time for a real relationship (or is she just emotionally stunted because of the death of her father?), but does need a bit of a release from time to time. Kutcher, a guy she knew from junior high camp, is a male and, as such, allows a doctor that looks like Natalie Portman to dictate the terms of the arrangement. Kevin Kline plays his older movie star father, who is now diddling his son’s ex (I told you you’d be struggling to find someone likable in this mess). Luda’, as the kids are calling Mr. Bridges these days, plays the funny bartender who dishes mind-numbingly misogynistic advice (the female empowerment messages, no matter how misguided, that once accompanied these films seem almost quaint in this post-feminist, hook-up culture). Kutcher falls for Portman. Portman rebuffs him. Kutcher moves on. Portman regrets the decision, and subsequently changes her very DNA to that of a 1960’s housewife.

I asked Girlfriend-of-Priest, who accompanied me to both this and The Mechanic (you can probably figure who picked which), which of the two films were the best for their genre. We both agreed The Mechanic. No Strings is that bad. C-