Three generations of headstrong women struggle to get along in this misfired comedy-drama from director Garry Marshall and screenwriter Mark Andrus. It is easily one of worst-written motion pictures in years. Opening with an unbelievable scene of mother-daughter conflict on the open highway, rebellious teenager Lindsay Lohan goes to sleep on the side of the road, is awakened by a Mormon hunk who inadvertently feels her up (thinking she's dead), and ends up hitching a ride into town with a veterinarian whom the girl decides must be gay because he didn't look at her exposed legs once. Lohan then runs into the hunk again, who thoughtfully figures she must be more dangerous than riding a horse. "Yeah," she tells him, "But at least after riding me, you don't have to wipe your shoes off." Shifting the tone midway into family soap opera, Marshall grinds the gears for emotional impact, however since no connection has been made between these characters and living, breathing human beings, the gambit fails to pay off. It is inconceivable that an actress of Jane Fonda's stature would end up in such a contrived, phony scenario--and it's painful to watch her trying to make something meaningful out of this abysmal material when the basic ingredients just aren't there. Lohan, playing an habitual liar and loudmouth, wears provocative clothes and sizes all the men up with a jaded, cynical stare, but her hard quality puts a wall up between she and the audience; we're not drawn to her, and less of her is more. A dynamic actress such as Drew Barrymore in her teenage years might have been able to pull this role off, but Lohan isn't in that league. * from ****
Review of Georgia Rule
