You probably already know how No Strings Attached ends. Anyone who has seen a movie probably knows how it ends. Like most typical modern romantic comedies, it’s predictable. But predictability has rarely stopped me from loving a movie (Titanic, anyone? We all know how it ends: Ship sinks. Leo dies. Celine sings. Yet watching it is still this gut-wrenching, tear duct-draining, completely cathartic experience. Every. Single. Time.) In the case of No Strings Attached, predictability is certainly not the primary criticism I have. I’m a big fan of rom-com staples like the Meet-Cute, the Big Mixup, and the Pivotal Airport Scene. Predictability isn’t the problem: it’s the fact that screenwriter Elizabeth Meriwether (TV’s Adult Swim) gave the two talented, impossibly charming leads so very little to work with. (And yes, I did just call Ashton Kutcher “talented” and “charming.” Justification will be made in due time.)
In case you’ve missed the ubiquitous, less-than-subtle trailer, Emma (Natalie Portman) and Adam (Ashton Kutcher) are old friends (the word “friend” is used loosely here; the more apt description is that they were once acquainted). They meet at summer camp as young teenagers, lose touch, then bump into each other at a fraternity party with little consequence. Years pass. They bump into each other again and exchange numbers. One year later, Adam calls Emma, a direct result of his daddy-issues-induced drunkenness. It turns out his sleazy father, a D-list television actor played by the potentially hilarious Kevin Kline, has been sleeping with Adam’s ex-girlfriend. Adam decides to call every female in his phone until he finds someone willing to help him get his revenge. He spends the night in Emma’s apartment and they end up having sex the next morning. They eventually decide (or, rather, Emma decides) that they want to continue hooking up with no emotional attachment or real commitment. Emma has a stressful medical career, limited free time, and actual emotion just isn’t her thing, apparently. Adam doesn’t say much about whether he thinks the plan can work; he just seems happy to be hooking up with someone who looks like Natalie Portman. Eventually, though, Adam realizes that he wants more from the relationship, and it’s only a matter of time before Emma will come around and admit that she’s falling in love (sur-priiiiise!)
The plot may not be conducive to “great cinema,” but this could potentially be a solid, hilarious movie in the vein of Judd Apatow or Adam McKay on a good day. There are some laughs here and there, but the screenplay is thin and you get the sense that truly great actors (Natalie Portman? Kevin Kline?) were robbed of worthy material. It’s not because the movie is too crude; in fact, it is not nearly as explicit as you might expect. Clearly, with the movie’s premise, you may not want to bring your grandmother along, but absolute, over-the-top raunchiness is (mostly) absent from this film. Unfortunately, so is actual development of the story, and this cast’s major talents go largely unutilized. Both Portman and, yes, Kutcher, shine (as much as is possible) in their respective roles, but this is partially due to the very unbalanced supporting cast. The always-delightful Olivia Thirlby is endearing as the younger sister and bride-to-be who prompts Emma to rethink her priorities. But her screen time is minimal compared to Greta Gerwig’s, who is bland and boring as Emma’s friend and roommate, Patrice. The inclusion of so many obvious supporting characters, straight from the standard rom-com stock, is disappointing. The Friend from College, the Trio of Bros, and the Sassy Gay Roommate only work when you hire supporting actors who are actually funny; this is a concept some casting directors will never grasp. Instead of including a few strong supporting roles, the film brings in an excessive amount of auxiliary characters without many comic or plot-enhancing consequences. The exceptions are Mindy Kaling (better known as Kelly from The Office) and Lake Bell (It’s Complicated), who rise above their clichéd roles with hysterical results, a difficult task when you’re playing old standbys like the Promiscuous Co-Worker (Kaling) or the Unrequited Lover (Bell). Bell’s priceless performance as an anxiety-ridden ditz with an inconvenient crush on Adam steals scene after scene. Hers may ultimately be the best performance in the film, or at least the one that elicits the most laughter.
A few of the film’s aspects are praiseworthy, or at least refreshing. First and foremost, it’s nice to see a guy (a guy played by Ashton Kutcher, no less) as the one who craves real commitment first. It’s a welcome change of pace from the done-to-death role of the relationship-wary male, and it’s to the writer’s credit that Emma’s character doesn’t morph into an only mildly toned-down version of Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction, as so many female characters in modern romantic comedies do. Second, Kutcher and Portman have a surprisingly high degree of on-screen chemistry; of course, it can’t hurt that they’re both painfully attractive. Kutcher foregoes his usual stoner-shtick a la Dude, Where’s My Car? and slides into his role as a sedately sweet, sweater-clad type with ease. Considering Adam’s deadpan expressions, desire to feel, and the sheer number of hoodies he owns, you might sense similarities to Zach Braff in Garden State. Third, when modern technology is integrated into movie plots, it should be integrated realistically. And in No Strings Attached, it absolutely is: this is not a post-2004 movie pretending that people actually use MySpace post-2004 (paging He’s Just Not That Into You and practically every television show on the CW...!) Emma and Adam have iPhones that actually look like iPhones. They make unambiguous references to wall posts and friend requests, and if they were shown using a search engine, it would probably be Google, just like the rest of the world. (Because, really, does anyone use Bing apart from the cast of Gossip Girl? Doubtful).
No Strings Attached has its moments of genuine sweetness and occasional hilarity, but overall, the movie reeks of wasted potential. Director Ivan Reitman had a phenomenal cast at his disposal, yet many of the comic scenes seem forced and uncomfortable. Watching a class act like Portman and a comedian like Kutcher deliver lines this bland is like being stuck in perpetual flight takeoff—you get the sense that the humor will really shape up and take flight any minute now, but you’re left in anticipation, and the movie never reaches its desired altitude. Even Kevin Kline, a comic great, struggles to rise above the bad writing. In addition, Emma’s reasoning behind initially wanting only casual sex is never really explored or given any validity. Of course it’s adorable that they eventually fall in love; viewers don’t go see this kind of movie to watch love lose the argument. Maybe Natalie Portman wanted a film that required little intellectual energy after all the varied and difficult roles she’s played; perhaps the crazed-ballerina role that earned her an Oscar nod for Black Swan tipped her over the edge of exhaustion. Who knows? This movie is enjoyable enough if you just want some fluffy fare, but with such a great cast, it could have been much funnier—no profound performances or subversive statements necessary, just a wittier script. If you want the gist of the movie, try YouTubing some promotional interviews and just watch Kutcher and Portman smiling and generally looking cute together. Knowing how entertaining the two usually are, the interviews will likely be funnier than the movie.
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