Irish Wish: Mean Girls and Freaky Friday “Plotlines” Collide With Others Amidst a Backdrop of Irish and Rom-Com Stereotypes, Non Sequiturs

Saint Patrick’s Day is perhaps famously lacking in movies centered on it as a “holiday” for good reason (see: Leprechaun as part of that good reason). After all, if one is going to write a screenplay about loads of drunks in New York (where St. Patrick’s Day is most celebrated), then they’d have too much competition/already been beaten by way of Mad Men. Irish Wish, Lindsay Lohan’s latest ill-advised “comeback” “film,” makes no claim of being a “St. Pat’s movie,” but it was very blatantly timed for a release that would coincide with Saint Patrick’s Day weekend. Obviously, as the title suggests, that’s because the “narrative” is set in Ireland. And yes, “narrative” is perhaps too generous a word for what goes on here. For the bulk of the story appears to be a combination of regurgitated plotlines (from no less than previous Lohan fan favorites, Freaky Friday and Mean Girls, with a dash of Sweet Home Alabama thrown in for more 00s-era measure) and shat-out pieces of cornball dialogue. 

While that dialogue was supposedly provided by Kirsten Hansen (known for churning out similar Hallmark-esque schlock like Nantucket Noel, Love Under the Rainbow and Love on the Slopes), the mawkishly shot scenery comes courtesy of director Janeen Damian, who also brought us Lohan’s first outing with Netflix, Falling for Christmas a.k.a. (Not) Falling for Shitmas. While, ironically, it can be argued that Irish Wish is more watchable than the latter (though that’s kind of like saying Joe Biden is more electable than Donald Trump), Benjamin Lee of The Guardian accurately points out that “​​her last Netflix rom-com was perhaps more forgivable because of the season, when a great number of otherwise unacceptably shoddy films are given a mild pass because of the festive spirit.”

But because, as mentioned, no one really considers St. Patrick’s Day a holiday (least of all Irish people themselves)—unless you count frat boys and other rapey varietals of men—Irish Wish has little hope of appealing to much in the way of “festive spirit.” Though it might appeal to creating a drinking game built around taking a shot every time something non sequitur or completely shudder-inducing happens. Take, for example, the opening of the movie, during which viewers’ introduction to Maddie is not only her gawking at the “UK’s bestselling author,” Paul Kennedy (Alexander Vlahos), à la Cady Heron “grooling” over Aaron Samuels (Jonathan Bennett) in Mean Girls, but also her scarf being ripped off her neck by a taxi. Because, among other ersatz things about this version of a briefly glimpsed New York City, people still rely on the yellow cab over an Uber, Lyft, et al.

As she lets the scarf unravel from her neck in such a way so that it twirls her around like she’s in a well-choreographed dance number, little does the viewer know, this is arguably the most dramatic, high-stakes occurrence that will go on in Irish Wish. Though it’s certainly not the most unbelievable. That credit might go to the fact that Paul’s “book reading/party” is depicted as though it’s a red carpet-worthy awards show, complete with eager, fawning paparazzi just waiting to snap a photo of Paul and ask him questions. New York might be the supposedly last literarily-enthusiastic place in the U.S., but this delineation exhibits just how little grounding Irish Wish has in any form of reality. 

However, perhaps treating a book launch like a Hollywood industry event was merely a “signal” to viewers to prepare for things to get even more batshit in the next several minutes. Including Paul’s sudden attraction to one of Maddie’s “besties,” Emma Taylor (Elizabeth Tan), who presents herself to him in a state of feminine chaos as her fake eyelash is coming unglued. Paul appears to find this utterly captivating as the two fall under one another’s spell—much to Maddie’s dismay, as she watches it all unfold from across the room. 

As their flirtation escalates (incongruously) over the next several minutes (which, in movie time, is a full evening), Maddie can see that she’s watching the man she “loves” slip through her fingers. And this despite what her mother, Rosemary (Jane Seymour, who appears to be taking on the role they couldn’t afford to give to Mary Steenburgen), warned her about: she needs to speak up for herself. Rosemary’s intermittent presence via telephone serves little other purpose than that…apart from showing people how to fix a stuck button on a keyboard.

Unfortunately for Maddie, she didn’t heed her mother’s advice and, by the end of the night, it’s “clear” that Paul and Emma are “smitten.” Still, Maddie tries to soothe herself in the taxi with her friends afterward by insisting to Emma, “It’s just a phone number. It’s not like it’s a proposal.” The cab lurches forward at that instant and the months on the calendar we see before us turn from June to August, followed by a brief scene of an airplane (with a shamrock logo and nothing else on it, naturally) flying across the sky. Cue Maddie’s other “bestie,” Heather (Ayesha Curry, who’s been on the promo tour for this movie with Lohan more than anyone else), remarking expositorily, “I can’t believe Paul and Emma are getting married. It all happened so fast.” Alluding to the cab’s lurching forward from a few months back (but in viewers’ minds, only a few seconds), she quips, “Like whiplash.”

Which is sort of how this entire movie can be described—unless one prefers to describe it instead as an “AI-generated harbinger of doom” thinly concealing a (or the) conservative agenda. To the latter point, it would sort of track considering Lohan has been living in Dubai for many years now—so perhaps conservatism (especially on the sartorial front) was in mind when she took on the role, in addition to serving as an executive producer (along with, somewhat suspiciously, her financier husband, Bader Shammas). 

As expected, “hijinks” ensue immediately upon her touchdown at the Knock Airport in County Mayo. Namely, she starts fighting over a suitcase with a “hot” photographer named James Thomas (Ed Speleers). Predictably, the suitcase explodes open and Maddie ends up touching his underwear (try desperately as it does to cultivate a meet-cute, Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife this is not). This is about the closest viewers will get to seeing something sexual happen (apart from Maddie covering her eyes at the sight of Paul in the shower). Whether that’s because of the “family-friendly” intent of the movie or the fact that Lohan is going back to a state of arrested development so as to return to the glory days of her “chaste” films (which are still not nearly as chaste as Irish Wish), well, that’s anyone’s guess. 

What’s also anyone’s guess is why the “mischievous scamp” trope needs to be wielded, yet again, about the Irish. Indeed, the Irish stereotype that its people are somehow “magical” is alive and well in the movie’s use of Saint Brigid (Dawn Bradfield). She being, inexplicably, the person responsible for granting Maddie her casual wish to marry Paul under what’s apparently a wishing tree. Or maybe it’s a wishing bench she’s sitting on. Who the fuck knows? Logic clearly isn’t the point here. After all, as Olivia Rodrigo says, “Love is never logical.” 

Just ask Melanie Smooter a.k.a. Carmichael (Reese Witherspoon) in Sweet Home Alabama, who also finds herself involved in a difficult love triangle (albeit a more believable, non-supernatural one). And, in case anyone had doubts about the Irish component of Irish Wish, the only cliche missing from the movie poster is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow prominently featured on it.  As for those who could doubt it’s a “love triangle” movie, in that same poster, Lohan, framed in the center of her two “love objects,” holds out each hand on either side of her in a pose that indicates she’s weighing both of the men featured next to her. “Hmm, which subpar, generic dude shall I pick?” Neither of which, by the way, are actually Irish. In fact, sadly, the most Irish person in this movie seems to be Lohan herself (Speleers is British, while Vlahos is Welsh). 

Another overt comparison to better rom-com premises of yore is My Best Friend’s Wedding, also about a love triangle and also starring a red-haired woman who has been staunchly friend-zoned by the object of her desire. Jules (Julia Roberts), however, at least has more to offer audiences on the Lucy Ricardo front than Lohan. And it is evident that Lohan seems to think having red hair should make her a natural comedienne. Alas, it does not, and she’s simply left trying to make the best of a very bad script. One that even has to drag ostensible “Irish mascot” James Joyce into things when James, who has conveniently been hired as the wedding photographer in the alternate reality where Maddie is marrying Paul, takes her to the Cliffs of Moher as a potential location for wedding photographs…despite it being a two-hour drive from County Mayo, where Paul’s family’s house is supposedly located if we’re going by the bus that drops her off right in front of it saying “County Mayo” on the front. However, among other glaring issues with Irish Wish is its Home Alone 2: Lost in New York sense of geography. Because the house the Kennedys live in, the Killruddery House, is actually in County Wicklow, an almost four-hour drive from County Mayo. And yes, Lough Tay, where the “wishing bench” is located, is also in County Wicklow, not Mayo.

But back to Joyce… To perhaps give him the swift kick in the crack he’s more deserving of than praise, Lohan as Maddie muses, upon finding herself on the cliffs with James, “I think I just stepped into a James Joyce novel.” It would seem she hasn’t actually read one based on that assessment. For Joyce’s novels were anything but “idyllic.” Oh yes, and, it should be mentioned, one supposes that Maddie is an aspiring writer-turned-editor who has compromised all integrity by letting Paul take the sole credit for writing his latest trashy romance novel, Two Irish Hearts (though, truth be told, that might be a better movie based on a book that whatever Irish Wish is—apart from a title that sounds like a takeoff on The Rural Juror from 30 Rock).

After their jaunt on the cliffs, which they were allowed to go alone on because Maddie kicked the shit out of Paul the previous night for trying to have sex with her as she was dozing off (“it was a knee-jerk reaction”)—more signs pointing to a not-so-hidden conservative agenda—a fallen tree blocking the only road back seems to further seal their “meant for each other” destiny. Thus, James decides to take her to his go-to pub, where he then “teaches” her how to play darts. Leaning into him, she hits a near bull’s eye that prompts James to “suggestively” tell her, “Maybe it’s the luck of the Irish then.” Another saccharine exchange the two share while he “teaches” Maddie how to throw darts is summed up by her looking up at him and gushing, “You’re a good coach.” Speleers is able to keep a straight face as he replies, “Well, you’re a good student.” This dialogue smacking of Cady telling Aaron Samuels, “Well, you’re a good tutor.” And yes, the Mean Girls element of Irish Wish is the fact that Emma is the Regina George of the outfit, the more “polished,” “put together” friend that Paul, the Aaron Samuels of the equation, falls for easily compared to “dowdy,” “awkward” Maddie a.k.a Cady (and, needless to say, Maddie wears glasses to confirm her dowdiness). And, if you’ve managed to get this far into the movie, it’s pretty damn facile to surmise how things are going to turn out.

With regard to the Freaky Friday premise at play, switching places with Emma is the patent allusion to that particular film, which Lohan has confirmed she’ll be dredging up with a sequel very soon. Because, as one can see, there aren’t exactly a lot of new roles that are clamoring to make her a bona fide star again. 

As for Irish Wish supposedly being added to the canon of “Saint Patrick’s Day movies,” if you’re looking to feel “festive” about said day, maybe stick with The Fugitive. Or even Mad Men.

Genna Rivieccio http://culledculture.com

Genna Rivieccio writes for myriad blogs, mainly this one, The Burning Bush, Missing A Dick, The Airship and Meditations on Misery.

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