Our Little Secret review – Lindsay Lohan’s Netflix comedy is a minor win

The return of Lindsay Lohan, redefining herself as movie star rather than tabloid joke, coincided with Netflix’s annual rebrand as home of cheap and cheerful Christmas fodder, easily made and easily devoured. It was a smart, low-stakes, high-exposure comeback, with 2022’s Falling into Christmas, her first lead role in almost a decade, a no-brainer of a hit during the streamer’s seasonal onslaught.

It almost didn’t matter that it wasn’t very good, it wasn’t really supposed to be, it just gave us proof that Lohan still had the same magnetism that made her a star in the first place. But her next film with Netflix was less of an easy pass – the genuinely atrocious Irish Wish – and suddenly her association with the streamer was feeling less like a restart and more like a long pause, trapping her in a mode she really needed to be running away from (next year’s Freaky Friday sequel should help with that). Her third, and contractually final, outing with the platform is the best of the lot but only because the bar is so low we can’t even see it, not only for Lohan’s latest run but for Netflix’s festive oeuvre at large.

Our Little Secret does, to its credit, play less like another attempt to recycle the junky Hallmark formula and more like one trying to emulate a slicker 2000s comedy. There are shades of Meet the Parents and Four Christmases and even a director of that era at the helm, Stephen Herek, who worked with stars like Mark Wahlberg, Angelina Jolie and Tommy Lee Jones in that same decade. It’s not as glossy or as raunchy as last year’s surprise smash Anyone But You but it’s trying to appeal to the same audience, those who grew up with studio rom-coms that boasted slightly more ambition. Like many of those films, it also revolves around a deception, and like in Anyone But You, it’s another one that’s set up so poorly that one wonders why they even bothered lying in the first place.

It starts in 2014 as Avery (Lohan) and her boyfriend Logan (Ian Harding) are arguing their way into her surprise going away party. She’s moving to London and in a desperate attempt to keep her from going away, Logan proposes. She says no and he storms off. A decade later and both are with new partners, heading out of town for the holidays. For the first time, they’ll both be meeting their other half’s parents but, in a twist that requires a Santa’s sack of unasked questions from us, they find out that they are spending Christmas with the same family. Their partners are siblings and, after a “wait, why, huh?” discussion, they choose not to tell anyone that they were ever together.

It’s a decision that never makes all that much sense but leads the pair down a far-fetched journey of accidentally consumed weed gummies, fake dog stomach-pumping, underage drinking, blackmail and embarrassing church speeches. If none of this is as funny as it should be (the film is really not that funny at all), it’s just about enjoyable enough thanks to a brisk pace and a spirited cast. Around the edges, there’s more talent than we’re accustomed to seeing here with ex-Saturday Night Live cast members Tim Meadows, Chris Parnell and one-seasoner Jon Rudnitsky, the Scrubs stalwart and Birth/Rebirth standout Judy Reyes, Scandal and The Comeback’s Dan Bucatinsky, Mission: Impossible’s Henry Czerny and, most rewardingly, Kristin Chenoweth. The Wicked star, playing a viperous Real Housewives-inspired mother, gives the film a heavy lift whenever she’s on screen, operating well within her wheelhouse (she’s also appeared in festive comedies like Netflix’s Holidate and the aforementioned Four Christmases) but adding flavour to what can often be a bland trifle.

Lohan and Harding are decent enough at the bantering – the latter has a Seth MacFarlane-esque elasticity that really works here – but the script, from first-time writer Hailey DeDominicis, isn’t smart or inventive enough to really stretch them. As we close this year out, I pray that no comedy in 2025 or really ever again relies on a scene where a character inadvertently binges on edibles, an eye-rollingly overused trope that also implies that cannabis is some terrifying hallucinogen. Instead, some gummies might be better relied upon while watching Our Little Secret, a perfectly adequate Christmas comedy that could do with a boost.