For the first 15 minutes, I assumed that The Lucky
Ones—a movie with the comically generic tagline “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 TK (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
TK’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. 
