I'M CONFUSED who the intended audience is for The Boy Next Door. Wish fulfillment for recent divorcées who want to get it on with ripped hunks? Teenagers who want to watch someone their mom's age have sex with someone who's ostensibly their age, although no 19-year-old has ever looked like 27-year-old Ryan Guzman? Sadists who want to see Jennifer Lopez's sad, sad decent from her apex in Out of Sight to this drivel? Or dudes who like explosions? There's a puzzling amount of explosions in this movie. Any which way, it fails on all fronts.
Recently single mom Claire (Lopez) is lonely. New neighbor boy Noah (Guzman) is hot. One stormy, torrid night, Noah puts the moves on Claire. Fueled by wine and self-hatred, she gives in to his nubile charms. After many shots of JLo's O-face, soundtracked by new age-y ocean music, and a disturbing lack of judgment on Claire's part—what grown-ass lady has sex with a gross teenager and doesn't use a condom?—Claire starts to wonder what she hath wrought. (A psychopath. She's wrought a psychopath.) Noah becomes obsessed with Claire, enrolling in the high school English class she teaches, brainwashing her son, hacking her classroom printer to print out sexy blackmail pics, and cutting her ex-husband's brakes (as you do when you're in love). This seems a high price to pay for one night of sex, no matter how many O-faces were made.
But Noah's not done; JLo is like crack for him. He'll kill for her. He'll also brood at her doorway and whine about not being invited over for dinner. Then he'll save her son's life while screaming, "Don't die on me, man!" (All this only a day or two before trying to kill the same son to attain JLo's elusive love.) Where does she hide her love away? In her butt. Her love is in her butt, if all of The Boy Next Door's grab-assing is any indication. But don't worry, JLo's butt gets comeuppance and a semi-truck blows up. Coincidence? I'll never tell.
So, The Boy Next Door isn't for everyone, just those rare few who enjoy being insulted and watching Jennifer Lopez demean herself for the blandest of psychopaths. (JLo, we'll always have The Cell.) Might I recommend the far superior obsession flick Fear, starring a legitimately terrifying stalker named Marky Mark? You're welcome.