The Boy Next Door

In a just world, there would be no credits rolling after The Boy Next Door. No one involved will have his reputation sullied by this stillborn thriller with erotic aspirations. All could go about their lives as if this ideal target for RiffTrax.com had somehow emerged on its own from a radioactive Hollywood compost heap that was created from recycling more subtle, sophisticated and entertaining films like Twilight. (I never thought I would write that last sentence or mean it, but there it is.)

Instead, there are a few minutes devoted to people who haven't the decency to assume pseudonyms and who now wonder if there is any way to somehow remove their names and credits from IMDB.com.

Perhaps there was no way once-promising-star Jennifer Lopez could deny appearing as a high school classics teacher named Claire Peterson. But as a producer, you'd think she'd have the sense to back out of the project or demand revisions. On second thought, she can now relax because she'll never be mistaken for someone with good taste or get offered a role as good as the one she had in Out of Sight.

As the title not-so-imaginatively implies, Claire becomes fascinated with the young man who has moved next door to her. In fact, Noah Sandborn (Ryan Guzman) is barely older than Claire's teenage son, Kevin (Ian Nelson). He even attends the school where Claire teaches.

It's easy to see why she could find the young man captivating; after all, Noah has enormous biceps (the first thing that director Rob Cohen reveals to the audience), abs that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo and a face that might seem more at home on a teddy bear.

That said, the young man can fix a garage door and recite Homer. Because Claire just can't commit to divorcing her philandering husband (John Corbett), it's easy to guess that she'll soon fall into Noah's arms, and not just because she's trying on heels that are guaranteed not to be ergonomic.

The Boy Next Door is former lawyer Barbara Curry's first produced screenplay, although the tale has been cobbled together from other films including Fatal Attraction, Unfaithful or any number of "adultery films." Adding Kristin Chenoweth as Claire's best friend and comedy relief doesn't help, because all of the actress' lines sound as if they were from the reject pile for 27 Dresses.

Sadly, she seems to have found nothing sexy or thrilling in any of the movies she has watched earlier and has assembled the components in such a way that viewers instantly feel the gift of prophecy coming on. If a drinking game were established for The Boy Next Door, viewers would risk developing fatal cirrhosis during the opening frames.

Curry has a rudimentary grasp of these things called computers and comes up with plot holes any IT expert could fill more imaginatively. Cohen, who gave us the equally torpid Alex Cross, proves that intensity and excitement are two separate entities. Despite getting to Noah's abs quickly, his consistently hysterical approach to storytelling undermines any tension the story could develop.

Claire, despite a hectic life, always wears an elegant green dress to an allergist appointment (could that be a plot point?). She also wears dainty undies for dinner with a teen. All of these form-fitting garments seem a little pricey for a public school teacher.

Cohen shows gory violence and flashes lots of skin, but reveals so much that viewers eventually become more lulled than aroused by the carnality. Perhaps the greatest sin of The Boy Next Door is taking all the fun out of sex and violence.

MovieStyle on 01/23/2015