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Last December, I sat through two hours of gruesome beheadings and impalings and all sorts of horrors while watching .nightsandweekends.com/articles/06/NW0600538.php>Apocalypto—and I barely even flinched. But all those beheadings and things were child’s play compared to the unspeakable horrors in Dane Cook’s latest film, Good Luck Chuck.
Good Luck Chuck tells the story of Charlie Logan, a guy with the worst of luck with women. As a kid, Charlie (Connor Price) messed with the wrong girl, and he was cursed to spend the rest of his life without love. Every girl he was with would then go on to marry the guy after him.
Now, Charlie (Cook) is all grown up—and he can’t seem to find The One. After yet another ex-girlfriend’s wedding, word spreads that he’s a good luck charm. Sleep with him once, then you’ll find the man of your dreams. So the chicks start lining up. Charlie’s a good guy, and he doesn’t want to take advantage of the situation—but his best friend, Stu (Dan Fogler), an under-sexed plastic surgeon (specializing in boobs, of course), convinces him to enjoy it while he can.
Then along comes Cam (Jessica Alba). Cam is accident-prone, and she loves penguins in an almost creepy way—and Charlie’s convinced that she’s The One. But before he makes a stupid mistake and loses her forever, he’s got to find out if the whole hex thing is really true.
There’s just so much to say about Good Luck Chuck that I don’t even know where to begin. First, let me pull out my thesaurus—so I can find a variety of synonyms for the word “bad.”
Okay…ready.
So…let’s start with the acting. I’ve mentioned before how atrocious Alba’s acting is, so let’s move on to Cook. In the beginning of the film, he tries to be both lovable and funny—but he can’t really pull off either. I would have cut him some slack, but then, in the second half, he tries to do creepy and obsessive—and the result is just plain terrible. It’s substandard, unhealthy, and crummy. It’s also unpleasant.
Of course, it doesn’t help that the characters are dreadful. Unsatisfactory, even. In fact, I spent most of the movie trying to decide which was the worst. Klutzy airhead Cam? Or maybe waffling pushover / obsessive psycho Charlie? But, then again, it’s probably Stu, the obnoxious perv.
Speaking of which, let’s talk about all the distressing things that I had to witness during the course of this film—the disturbing images that will be imprinted on my brain forever. I didn’t need to watch Dane Cook having sex—and I definitely didn’t need to watch it in about 20 little split-screens all at once. And, well, I’ll take beheadings any day over what I saw Dan Fogler doing to that grapefruit.
As for the writing, the jokes are predictable and far from funny. And I’m not entirely sure if the writers were shooting for a quirky romantic comedy or a bad porno. You can have sleazy sexual humor and a constant parade of breasts, or you can make a chick flick. Pick one or the other—because when you try to do both, nobody’s happy in the end.
But perhaps the best way to illustrate the sheer badness of Good Luck Chuck is to explain that, after seeing it, I went home and chugged Pepto Bismol while thinking about looking for a job that isn’t quite so hazardous to my health and mental well-being. Sadly, though, I don’t think Pepto can actually cure disgust and revulsion, so it’s probably safest if you just avoid this one altogether.
