For the first 15 minutes, I assumed that The Lucky Ones—a movie with the comically generic tag line “Sometimes losing your way home means finding yourself”—was a heartfelt drama about soldiers returning home from Iraq. I was incorrect. The Lucky Ones is, in fact, a heartfelt comedy about soldiers returning home from Iraq! A wacky road trip comedy, to be specific. No shit.

Cheever (Tim Robbins: sad, seasoned), Colee (Rachel McAdams: spunky, stupid), and T.K. (Michael Peña: injured in the penis) are back on leave and stranded in New York because of a blackout. Daring to ask the question “What would happen if three tired movie clichés had post traumatic stress disorder?”, the film seems to be based entirely on some screenwriter’s precious bon mot: They survived Iraq, but how will they survive on the battleground OF AMERICAN LIFE!?

The three soldiers motor across the country in search of home and T.K.’s boner, encountering a string of fat, clueless civilians (“No, thank YOU!”) whose priorities are, in order: reality TV, stuffed endive, megachurchin’, finance, Saturday morning tee time and college. There’s no problem that can’t be solved with a quick phone call or a snuggle in a storm drain; and no movie has ever been quite so delighted with itself for capitalizing on an uncomfortably current horror.

THE LUCKY ONES DIR. NEIL BURGER | RATED R | OPENS FRIDAY EVERYWHERE

Tags: Film, Reviews, the lucky ones