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Just My Luck review

Just our luck: Hollywood train-wreck Lindsay Lohan and boy band McFly in the same movie. Oh, what fresh hell is this? For the record, the former is a chic New York PR chick who, somehow, loses her freaky good fortune after snogging a handsome stranger at a masked ball. Said hunk, the aptly-named Chris Pine, uses his newfound karma to launch the British mop-tops Stateside, inadvertently proving the film’s conceit that what goes around, comes around.

Devised as a transitional vehicle between Lohan’s teen-pic past and the grown-up roles that surely await her if she escapes her excesses, Donald Petrie’s cutesy rom-com is neither fish nor fowl (the only foodstuffs she’s not shown wolfing down in scenes that seem designed to quash the tabloid rumours about her eating). Best moment? The bit where Li-Lo gets socked in the jaw by an angry jailbird.

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