Meanwhile, Andrew Bachelor—better known as Internet star King Bach—plays a duck boat tour guide named Ritchie who instantly falls for a pretty passenger. She happens to have a tattoo on her neck of Cinderella’s glass slipper, which leads to a drawn-out saga in which he searches madly for her all over town with the help of a local TV news reporter. The two of them didn’t even share the briefest of sparks to justify this kind of obsession, and this is not how journalism works.

Back to the Jessie storyline, where she checks out a cheesy bar band in hopes they’ll play the wedding she’s planning. The duo performs insipid bro rock, and in an amusing continuity error, the microphone in front of one of them (pop star Jesse McCartney) is either up high or down low, depending on the camera angle. The crowd’s enthusiasm is cringe-inducing in its falseness. But the other guy, Mack (Diego Boneta), inexplicably falls for Jesse, so he wants to play the wedding against his bandmate’s wishes, even if it means abandoning his principles and performing Kool and the Gang’s “Celebration.” This is the extent of the conflict in this movie.

And we couldn’t forget Irons and Keaton, who get thrown together on a blind date—because she’s blind, get it? You know the second Irons’ uptight Lawrence puts the finishing touches on a giant tower of champagne glasses that Keaton’s ditzy Sara will come barreling in with her guide dog to knock them all down. But Dugan can’t make a simple piece of slapstick comedy like this work on even the most basic level. He, too, is barreling into the set-up and knocking over the punchline. And the way he repeatedly has Sara tripping over and destroying things in the name of cheap laughs would be offensive if this movie weren’t so forgettable all around.

Watching Irons and Keaton together, you long for them to co-star in a romance with brains and a heart. Instead, we watch them exchange boring, getting-to-know-you banter under a tree while the gentle strains of an acoustic guitar play in the background. (That’s another facet of the movie that feels wedged in: Elle King serves as a sort of Greek chorus, busking in Boston Common between scenes.)

Dugan jumps around between all these story lines without any rhyme or reason, often cutting a scene short abruptly to move on to the next. Not a single character feels like a real person, there’s no insight to be found on dating or love, and the feel-good finale that ties all these plot threads together is uncomfortably forced. We shouldn’t be surprised, though. The word “disaster” was right there in the title all along. 

Now available in theaters and on demand.

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