[one-star-rating]Jennifer Lopez, John Corbett, Ryan Guzman, Ian Nelson, Kristen Chenoweth[/one-star-rating]
With a little more self-awareness, The Boy Next Door could have been a cheese-tastic cult classic. It’s a crime that everyone here is so serious. This gravitas kills any entertainment value in what essentially should’ve been an enjoyable turd-polishing exercise, given this lousy script.
Because The Boy Next Door is definitely a turd. The boy is crappy, and so is his movie.
If the movie had played without restraint, it would’ve been amazing – like John Waters doing a Lifetime flick – pure, unadulterated trash and a blast to wallow in.
Lopez is a super-hot high school English teacher. She’s also going through some typical Lifetime-female trouble, separated from her cheating hubby (the unfairly used Corbett), raising their asthmatic kid alone. When lithe, muscular high school student Guzman movies next door, Lopez makes some really bad choices…after a bottle of wine.
Well – I mean – who’s to know that the underage student you’re sleeping with is a psychotic stalker?
Except Guzman isn’t underage. Through some wimpy machinations of the plot, he’s a 20-year-old still in high school. If the film had guts, he would’ve been fifteen, I would’ve been supremely uncomfortable, and there would’ve been uproar in front of every theater showing this dreck. Imagine the police holding the angry mob back, school boards vetting inquiries from panicked parents, and every talking head on TV exploding.
Guzman’s character is supposed to be amazing – he fixed cars and garage doors, and he quotes The Illiad. It’d been better if he could cook a Michelin-level four-course meal, fix bad perms, and magically cure J. Lo’s wheezing son (Nelson).
This movie is also all-over miscast. There is no way to buy curvy, powerful Lopez as a sad, desperate teacher and wife. She seems way too smart to fall for a student, even a super-hot 20-year-old. Guzman is just too old and pretty, too professional to be the psychotic lady-killer teen we really crave. Corbett has always been the nice guy; he’s underutilized here. Only Chenoweth – as Lopez’s best friend – shines; too bad she’s in the wrong movie.
The whole project possesses a ridiculous polish. Lopez’s work outfits cost half a regular teacher’s annual wage, and the flimsy negligee she lounges around in is even pricier. Guzman is model perfect, and the camera moves, editing, and music are all too glossy.
[rating-key]
This story is based on lots of news, but mostly a Tampa teacher Debra Lafave, who slept with her middle school student. One Google of her mug shot gives us an idea of how this film should’ve played out.
The Boy Next Door really needed to swing for the fences – the ones around the garbage dump. Rob Cohen (Fast and Furious, The Witches of Eastwick) directed this. If John Waters had a go, he would’ve cast a sad, slightly downtrodden woman as the teacher. He would’ve found the hottest young reprobate he could’ve gotten without getting arrested. The film would’ve given us grit and humor, and would have reached its gloriously crappy potential.
You must be logged in to post a comment.