Main cast: Nick Jonas (Doug Martin), Isabel Lucas (Lena Harper), Paul Sorvino (Big Jack), Kandyse McClure (Angie Alvarez), Graham Rogers (Carson), and Dermot Mulroney (Elliott Harper)
Director: Elizabeth Allen Rosenbaum
Once upon a time, in the dark, brooding days of the Jonas Brothers’ hiatus, Nick Jonas decided to embark on a fifteen-minute campaign to rebrand himself as a sex symbol.
There were Calvin Klein ads where he looked like someone had Photoshop-filtered a Ken doll onto a human torso, a few roles where he flirted ambiguously with other men just long enough to make his teenage fans gasp and clutch their pearls, and of course, the shirt came off at every possible opportunity, presumably because his agent told him it was what Justin Timberlake would have done in 2006.
But let’s be real: it was all a carefully calculated act. One that, much like those airbrushed Calvin Klein ads, managed to reveal absolutely nothing beneath the surface.
Despite the sultry lighting and smoldering glances, Mr Jonas never actually oozed any genuine sexual charisma. His whole “bad boy Nick” phase had the edginess of a Disney villain who shoplifts lip gloss. His gay fanbase, initially intrigued, eventually called him out for queerbaiting with all the subtlety of a drunk aunt at Thanksgiving.
And all this awkward, try-hard faux-sensual energy is perfectly crystallized in the cinematic beige sponge that is Careful What You Wish For. Billed as an “erotic thriller” in the tradition of Wild Things and Cruel Intentions, it’s actually a Lifetime movie wearing a see-through negligee from Target’s clearance rack.
The plot? You’ve seen this. Hell, your grandmother has seen this. Doug Martin, a clean-cut, virginal young man, heads to the family’s lakeside vacation home for the summer. There, he meets Lena Harper, a beautiful, slightly older woman married to Elliot, who is wealthy, domineering, and sports the sort of aggressive business haircut that screams, “I cheat on my taxes and my wife!”
Naturally, Doug and Lena embark on a torrid affair — or at least, what the movie claims is torrid. In practice, it’s about as torrid as a humid afternoon at Home Depot. There’s no steam. No danger. No sleaze. Just a few PG-13 love scenes that offer no more skin than Mr Jonas’s underwear ads, and definitely no reason to sit through 90 minutes of painfully predictable plotting.
Of course, Elliot dies under “mysterious” circumstances (read: Lena clearly killed him, and a five-year-old could connect the dots before the opening credits finish). Doug gets pinned as the patsy. Lena turns on him faster than a realtor spotting a cash buyer. It all trudges to a climax so devoid of tension you could safely leave the room, make a sandwich, and come back having missed nothing.
The acting is cardboard, top to bottom. Nick Jonas tries, bless him, but his range stretches from “innocent puppy” to “mildly confused puppy”. Isabel Lucas looks permanently bored, possibly because she read the script. Dermot Mulroney is here for a paycheck and possibly to secure dental coverage. Even the supporting characters act like they know nobody’s career is coming out of this unscathed.
Yet, perhaps the most egregious crime here is this: an erotic thriller without eroticism or thrills. If you tuned in hoping for a sweaty, trashy guilty pleasure — the kind of thing you’d watch with a bottle of wine and a group text blowing up with “OMG did you see THAT?!” — you’ll be bitterly disappointed. This is a film that flirts with sleaze but chickens out at every turn, much like Mr Jonas’s PR-crafted “bad boy” phase.
So, is there any reason to watch this? Honestly, no, unless you’re a completionist collecting the world’s most tepid would-be thrillers or a Nick Jonas superfan desperate to watch him furrow his brow for 91 minutes.
Otherwise, do yourself a favor: queue up Wild Things, Cruel Intentions, or any of those gloriously terrible sequels. At least those had the good grace to be deliriously sleazy, ridiculous, and fun.
Careful What You Wish For is what happens when a Jonas Brother tries to get naughty — but only if his mom signs the permission slip.
