Producers: Joe Roth and Jeff Kirschenbaum  Director: Richard Lagravenese   Screenplay: Carrie Solomon   Cast: Nicole Kidman, Zac Efron, Joey King, Liza Koshy, Kathy Bates, Sherry Cola and Sarah Baskin  Distributor: Netflix

Grade: C

The old adage says that comedy is hard, but if recent examples are any indication, romantic comedies are especially so.  “A Family Affair” tries to bring some new twists to old formulas, but sadly in this case neither the old nor the new works very well.

The guy who’s one half of the destined-to-be-together couple is Chris Cole (Zac Efron), a big action movie star who’s nonetheless lonely and scared inside, and his predetermined soul mate is Brooke Harwood (Nicole Kidman), a widowed writer who apparently hasn’t dated since her husband died.  She’s also the mother of Zara Ford (Joey King), Chris’s put-upon assistant who, after a couple of years as a glorified gofer, has gotten sick and tired of her boss’s egotistical self-absorption and failure to keep his promises to promote her to producer status.

So she quits, occasioning Chris to visit the house where she lives with Brooke to sort-of apologize.  The chemistry between Chris and Brooke is immediate—she astonishes him by explaining that his movie franchise has roots in Greek mythology, her field of expertise—and by the time Zara comes home from a shopping trip, they’re in bed together (a circumstance that, frankly, doesn’t seem remotely credible).  Naturally Zara’s appalled when she interrupts them in flagrante, but her wise, manipulative paternal grandma Leila (Kathy Bates)—also Brooke’s long-time editor—intervenes to smooth the way for a romance the girl finds unpalatable.

Cole does move Zara up to producer of his new sequel, in which he plays some sort of super spy (he’s constantly referred to as a superhero, but that’s an exaggeration), and there are a few mildly amusing moments involving the movie’s intense French director (Sarah Baskin), whose instructions she occasionally she has to translate for Cole, and Stella (Sherry Cola), a writer friend whom Zara convinces Cole is a perfect choice to doctor the movie’s awful script.  Overall, though, the attempts at Hollywood parody are limp.  And the material involving Zara’s inevitable best friend Genie (Liza Koshy) is banal, especially in a sudden confrontation between them when Zara realizes she’s been self-absorbed in relying constantly on Genie’s help while ignoring the fact that Genie’s been having relationship problems of her own.

And the romantic spark between Kidman and Efron never takes off either; it remains a coupling that we’re told, especially through a couple of wordless montages accompanied by the sappy, tinkling score of composer Siddhartha Khosla, is made in heaven, but never convinces us that it was contrived anywhere else but in Solomon’s word processor.  The two stars work to make Chris and Brooke seem combustible, though neither seems really comfortable doing so (Efron is halting and Kidman blasé), but the relationship remains artificial despite their best efforts.

So is the obstacle that, in obligatory fashion, arises in the last act to potentially derail it.  With her knowledge about how her boss has ended things with his previous girlfriends, Zara concludes that he intends using the same methods with her mother; and the confrontation occurs, as you might expect, during a family Christmas celebration at a mountain lodge to which Cole has been invited.  Naturally, however, things will be smoothed out in time for a happy ending in which Zara shows she’s changed her mind about Chris and her mom by creating a super-cute re-meeting for the couple. 

What little spark is to be found in the blandly-titled “A Family Affair” comes from King, whose Zara might be overly frantic in sitcom style but is at least energetic, and Bates, whose unruffled delivery, always marked by a knowing smile, elevates even the most misguided material.  The picture has the glossily anonymous look of much Netflix or Hallmark romcom fare; the production design (Desma Murphy), costumes (Luis Sequeira) and cinematography (Don Burgess) have a comfortable opulence, and editor Melissa Bretherton works with Richard Lagravenese’s easygoing direction to keep things cushy and predictable.

“A Family Affair” is contrived, but not clever enough to overcome the essential shallowness of the concept or the slackness of execution.  Maybe Stella should have been brought on for a rewrite. 

Producers: Jonathan Lia, Scarlett Johansson, Keenan Flynn and Sarah Scheckter   Director: Greg Berlanti    Screenplay: Rose Gilroy  Cast: Scarlett Johansson, Channing Tatum, Woody Harrelson, Ray Romano, Jim Rash, Anna Garcia, Donald Elise Watkins, Noah Robbins, Colin Woodell, Christian Zuber, Nick Dillenburg, Christian Clemenson, Gene Jones, Joe Chrest, Victor Garber, Stephanie Kurtzuba, Dariusz Wolski, Lauren Revard, Peter Jacobson and Colin Jost   Distributor: Columbia Pictures  

Grade: C

Though set around the successful Apollo 11 moon landing mission of 1969, this romantic comedy simply fails to launch, because of a strange script and a lack of chemistry between the leads.  “Fly Me to the Moon” uses archival footage to create the historical background, and includes a few actual figures (most notably astronauts Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins, played by Nick Dillenburg, Colin Woodell and Christian Zuber), but the rest of the characters are fictional, though some hold real titles.

Rose Gilroy’s screenplay is an attempted updating of the old Spencer Tracy-Katharine Hepburn or Rock-Hudson-Doris Day template.  At the start of 1969, despite JFK’s pledge of a manned moon landing, NASA’s Apollo program is an underfunded government afterthought, with a staff still haunted by the 1967 tragedy of Apollo 1 and the public generally apathetic, leaving the projected July moon launch uncertain.  In an effort to revive support, Moe Berkus (Woody Harrelson), a shadowy operative of the Nixon Administration, induces Kelly Jones (Scarlett Johansson), a NYC PR agent known for a willingness to stretch the truth past the breaking point to sell products (and herself), to take over NASA publicity.  Without other options, she’s off to Florida with her ever-loyal aide Ruby (Anna Garcia).

Her ultra-creative ways lead to her butting heads with harried launch director Cole Davis (Channing Tatum), a straight-arrow, obsessively honest ex-fighter pilot whose heart problem nixed his own astronaut dreams and who feels guilt for his failures as director of the Apollo 1 mission.  Naturally over time they’ll find they’re irresistibly drawn to one another despite their differences.

Kelly finds her increasing loyalty to Cole imperiled by Berkus’ Machiavellian demands.  First he orders the addition of a camera aboard the landing craft to send footage of the lunar triumph to the audience back on earth.  Then, concerned that the mission might fail or the footage won’t be impressive enough, he compels Kelly to secretly fabricate a phony moon landing that can replace the real one, leading her to bring in wacky director Lance Vespertine (Jim Rash) and his cinematographer Edvard (Dariusz Wolski, who actually shot “Moon”) to make the fake one. 

Of course she can’t go through with the scheme, and she and Cole, along with two nerdy young project engineers Stu (Donald Elise Watkins) and Don (Noah Robbins), work frantically to ensure that the actual footage will be aired.  In other words, the movie tries to have it both ways, inserting the notorious conspiracy theory about how the moon landing was faked (Stanley Kubrick, widely credited as the creator of the false footage, is referred to by Lance as a hack) but then comedically dismissing it by portraying Vespertine’s version as a slapstick disaster that happily didn’t ruin a great achievement. 

The whole fake footage business isn’t just ludicrous from a practical standpoint (why not just film it beforehand rather than shooting it simultaneously with the landing, as they do here—after all, if the mission went awry, it would have been needed ASAP, and it couldn’t have been linked to the “actual” lunar dialogue as indicated here).  But bringing logic to bear on the whole business is a hopeless task.  It’s more appropriate to note that the subplot is ineptly done—Lance is just a poor imitation of Mel Brooks’s Roger De Bris (Christopher Hewett) from “The Producers,” and it’s a stereotype that has not aged well, while Moe’s offhanded observation that Armstrong’s famous “One small step” remark is “a pretty good line” is a juvenile joke.                    

But then much of the humor in the script is sophomoric, and it’s not redeemed by the central romantic relationship, which unlike the spacecraft never really gets off the ground.  Johansson works hard to give Kelly sparkle, and largely succeeds, though her effervescence never feels entirely genuine—which is, of course, the point.  But Tatum is stuck with a glum, fretful character who only warms up toward the close.  The attempt to deepen then both with revelations about their traumatic pasts—Kelly is given an overlong monologue about her terrible childhood with a con-woman mother, while Cole’s guilt over Apollo 1 explodes under prodding from an intrusive interviewer (Peter Jacobson)—comes across as forced as well as glib.

Supporting performances are by-the-book.  Harrelson brings his shadiest comic malevolence to the party, while Ray Romano as Henry Smalls, a veteran NASA engineer and Cole’s confidant (who has heart problems too), is around basically to look hangdog but hopeful, while Watkins and Robbins are a semi-stoogish pair.  (The latter’s halting courting of Garcia’s spunky Ruby provides a wan counterpoint to the Johannson-Tatum pairing.)  But Christian Clemenson gets a few nice moments as a NASA tour guide.

There’s another flaccid subplot about the effort to woo votes on NASA funding from reluctant senators played by Gene Jones (the blustery southerner), Victor Garber (the smooth talker), Joe Chrest (the religious type fearful of science) and, finally, Colin Jost, Johansson’s real-life hubby (the rabid anti-communist).  None of the cameos registers strongly, whether for laughs or (in Chrest’s case) apparent sincerity.

The movie was originally intended for streaming (it will eventually appear on Apple+), which probably explains why the production designed by Shane Valentino isn’t exactly huge and Wolski’s widescreen cinematography fairly pedestrian. Editor Harry Jierjian links the real and archival footage together pretty well, though some of the scenes fashioned by him and director Greg Berlanti (familiar mostly for TV work) drag; Daniel Pemberton’s score is suitably perky when it’s allowed to be heard among the endless stream of period needle-drops, including the title tune.  Mary Zohres’ costumes are similarly period-friendly, though Tatum’s multi-colored array of polo shirts suggests his closet is not notable for variety; Johansson’s wardrobe is much more fetching.        

For a movie about reaching for the stars, or at least the moon, this romantic comedy remains relatively earthbound.