The moribund romcom genre emits a shrill death-rattle...stutters awkwardly through lame, Judd Apatow-by-numbers comedy.
A none-too-challenging romcom saved from obscurity by a kooky supporting cast, smutty one-liners and Portman launting her funny side.
Not a bad premise, but material demanding a light touch is weighed down by a desperate desire to fit in, like a little kid swearing to impress the big boys.
Though Ivan Reitman directed this with butterfingers, the screenplay, by Elizabeth Meriweather, has a chatty, girly sensibility you want to indulge.
No strings attached, but you might care to bring your own noose.
You don't need a PhD in romcomology from the University of Predictable Nonsense, formerly Predictable Nonsense Polytechnic, to guess what happens next. Hanging on to your hat is not a problem as this film's plot unfolds; holding on to your lunch might be.
Smarter than the average rom-com (admittedly it wouldn’t be hard), but it still succumbs to some dumb crassness along the way.
The question is, can they be "sex friends" without becoming emotionally involved? Well, duh. We all know where it's heading from the first scene.
Neither actor is particularly memorable, and veteran director Ivan Reitman's try-hard attempt to fulfil the raunchy promise of its sexually liberated title with Apatow-style crudeness is often just cringe-worthy.
Dislikable, distasteful, indifferently acted.
The film could have gone further, and been tougher in its exploration of commitment.
Interview: Ashton Kutcher, actor
General release. Check local listings for show times.
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