Lindsay Lohan, Long Island child of overly ambitious parents (ambitious for their progeny, that is) Michael and Dina, is purportedly about to have her life flash before her eyes in a television movie, “Dogs in Pocketbooks.”
Wait, it gets better. This spoiled party-hound, reputed to be a friend of Bill (not Clinton) and fan of synthetic feel-good devices, might not have won critics’ favor, but she sure sells a lot of tabloid press.
What exactly has this kid done to warrant such scrutiny? Not much. It’s the public’s insatiable appetite for scandal! Drugs! Bacchanalia! That drives the paps to set up crazy stake-outs in order to snap the perfect “get.” It looks like not much has changed since they chased and mowed down the British royalty. So every driving ticket, crotchless car-exit and hissy fit at Chateau Marmont is now up for grabs. And the more we see the more we want, and the dog continues to consume its own tail. In or out of pocketbooks.
The sad part of this cautionary tale is that this kid had actual talent when she was tapped for the Disney flicks and before her post 21-shenanigans put her in the pubescent company of Drew Barrymoore, who used to frequent clubs before she gave up her training bra. Fused with a work ethic of which immigrant families would be proud, little Lindsey was blessed with two stage parents who crafted the kid carefully into the mini-monster she has become.
Guided by a stage mother from hell and a “father” who never met a lens filter he didn’t like, Lindsey was destined to fall. How can you keep them down on the farm after they’ve crossed the International Date Line before turning sweet 16?
Good luck with that one. It’s hard enough raising “normal” kids on Long Island, land of the mall and endless access to finance-free, no-financial-background-checked-credit-cards. Sent when your kids are still in middle school. Hey, gotta exercise that spending muscle early in order to develop the proper hand-to-wallet motion. But Lindsay apparently sprang fully formed ( like the goddess Athena) from a household bent on fame and fortune and blessed with wholesome good looks (and remember looks can be deceiving) at first seemed like the Golden Child of the Lohan’s wet dream.
“The Parent Trap” could have been box office gold with staying power: parents weaned on Hayley Mills and her genuine charm and adorability were thrilled to have a feel-good family movie their kids wouldn’t be embarrassed to see with them. And they could all enjoy a classic Disney family movie. Too bad the remake was so meh when it could have been a classic redux. Little Lohan was cute in an Irish Spring, fresh-scrubbed freckly face demeanor. But she was no Hayley Mills. Natasha Richardson and Dennis Quaid were cute but cool, not warm like Brian Keith and sultry Maureen O’Hara.
Chemistry must have been cut in the editing process, because that movie gave me freezer burns. but Quaid is no manly Brian Keith and Richardson was in over her head as fill-in for temptress O’Hara. Small complaints, compared to Lohan’s ambitious range (she covered all the emotions from A-B, to plagiarize another famous Hollywood quote).
Yet Lohan offered a friendly, if somewhat measured, take on scheming twins determined to bring wayward parents back into the fold. Lohan’s interpretation seemed so full of untapped potential, innocent and guileless. But instead of emulating Mills’ endearing, cross-generational appeal, Lindsey heard the siren song of Drew Barrymoore and skipped down that drug-addled path before hitting her pubes.
Lindsay continued to make some credible flicks with heart (including the parent/child switcheroo movie with Jamie Lee Curtis) and was inching towards independence about the same time she discovered it was more fun to fool around with drugs and druggies than to show up on time for her then-thriving movie career. Read any of those interviews given by some of her co-workers, many of Hollywood’s legendary celebrities (Jane Fonda among them) and you’ll see thinly veiled references to out-of-control behavior and career-suicide personal choices.
No wonder so producers didn’t buy Lindsay’s spineless come-back attempts to clean up her act and fly straight.
So it was simply a matter of time before the Lohan drama received the true-life television movie treatment, replete with rumors that another famed progeny of a notorious family (Lydia Hearst-Shaw) would portray the troubled Lawn Guylander in the upcoming, ridiculously title, “Dogs in Pocketbooks.” Enter your own snarky explanation here.
Come to think of it, why doesn’t Hearst-Shaw simply option her mother’s story? Unless that might require reading up on some actual history and important social trends of the ‘70s. It’s much easier to shop with a mini-canine in tow than tote around a sawed-off shotgun while wearing heels and a strappy shift.
Whatever it turns out to be, it will assuredly draw a large Long Island audience and in its wake no doubt will be a bus tour highlighting all the landmarks covered in this important life story.
