The Kids Are All Right...

But their parents? Oy vey!

Here's another prime example of how an intelligent moviegoer can no longer believe reviews. I've now been burned so many times that I probably can no longer qualify for fire insurance. How many freakin' times have I been dragged into a theater by the greatest notices since Robert Preston opened in "The Music Man?" And then thoroughly addled and disappointed by what I just saw up on the screen. I never ever learn.

Add to the list of overrated films the title "The Kids Are All Right."

To read the ads in the newspaper, you would think that this flick rivals "Gone With the Wind" in drama and grandeur. It's so good that, had it been released earlier, this movie just might have been able to prevent Pearl Harbor, 9/11, and possibly the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. Now, given that this is really nothing but a drama without a single explosion or video game graphic, these adulations have me thinking that my two hours in the dark will be well spent.

Well, sort of. The nap was terrific.

This film tells the tale of a lesbian couple who are raising two children that each woman gave birth to after both received different sperm from the same guy. The logline alone is enough to send me to dreamland. Of course, the requisite mayhem ensues when the older daughter turns 18 and uses her new legal status to finally approach the sperm donor. Of course, the younger boy gets to meet him as well and I can only imagine how conscientious social workers are cringing at this illogical plot device.

Naturally, Mom and Mom are not happy about this development. Until one of them gets a good look at the sap who whizzed into a test tube and, suddenly, decides that a well-placed vibrator is not always what it's cracked up to be. The resulting ridiculous romantic triangle is one that might not have even been concocted by Preston Sturges after having one too many high balls at the Players Club.

Despite all that intricate plotting, nothing very interesting happens for two hours. Except you realize that you're spending a lot of time with people you don't like and, frankly, I can do that at work. They all have this dusty quality as if their housekeeper was deported two years ago. The sperm donor, in particular, spends a lot of time digging in his garden and is badly in need of some Lava Soap.

I suppose the acting is decent, but I really didn't want to stop and notice. Annette Bening seems to be channeling a chance encounter with Billy Idol back in 1983. The other half of the Mom couple is played by Julianne Moore, and I've always thought she is vastly overrated as an actress. During the film, I couldn't help but be distracted by her arms and legs, which are covered by freckles. I started to obsess over the notion that Ms. Moore is a likely candidate for a melanoma at some point in the near future. But, realistically, if you start worrying about the longterm health of the actors you are watching in a movie, the script must really suck.

And it does.

Giving all these goofballs their required due, I can't forget Mark Ruffalo as the sperm donor. He meanders through the film like an unmade bed and makes you want to treat him to a can of Arrid Extra Dry. When you start worrying about the present day appearance of the actors you are watching in a movie, the script must really suck.

And it does. But I told you that already.

I know this could have been a lot more interesting. I went to the wedding of a dear friend of mine two years ago as she married her longtime significant other. A better movie would have been made from the planning of that affair as they pulled the whole event off in two weeks so that they could beat the Election Day deadline that year. But, I digress...

The only redeeming performance in the movie comes from Josh Hutcherson as the young son. Not that he's particularly great in the role. But I remembered seeing him in a wonderful little film from about three years ago. "Little Manhattan." A flick that got minimal attention from critics and the box office.

So, if you're moved at all by the platitudes to see "The Kids Are All Right," you are definitely better off getting past the moment and putting "Little Manhattan" in your Netflix queue instead.

Dinner last night: Turkey burger at the Dodger press box.