This is getting really old. Another summer weekend, another movie that leaves you wondering how some people are even allowed to make movies anymore (*cough Luc Besson *cough), and why other people would sign up to be part of them (*mumble Morgan Freeman, Scarlett Johansson *mumble).

And, even more importantly, why you would pay money to go see them.

Lucy is the kind of ridiculously awful movie that will not only make you want to just sit inside and cross-stitch for the rest of the summer but will seriously make you question whether Morgan Freeman (a) owed someone a huge favor or (b) got hid on the head or (c) both. (Johansson isn’t even 30 yet– let’s just be charitable and chalk up her involvement to inexperience.)

Based on the egregious fallacy (there’s your first problem) that humans only use 10-12% of their brain, Lucy examines what would happen if you (by having a drug lord cut you open, stuff a bag of a synthetic drug inside your intestines, and have one of his henchmen kick you repeatedly until the bag bursts, and then have the drug stream through your body at such a rate that would kill an elephant, much less a 5’3” actress) could somehow use 40%, 50%, or even 100% of your brain’s capacity.

Clever idea, sure (assuming you can get past the whole drug lord/henchman/elephant bit), but Besson (who also wrote the screenplay) is convinced that the presence of a bad-ass Johansson and some third-rate animations of blue pixie dust zooming through her bloodstream will be enough to keep you interested. And that it will help you forget such head-scratching plot points as the fact that Lucy (Johansson) has no sensation of pain after her overdose but can has heightened memory, to the point where she feels compelled to call her mom to let her know that she can remember the taste of breast milk. Mmmkay.

At the outset, Besson also includes several stock footage cut-ins to serve as metaphors for the action onscreen– cheetah-hunts-gazelle video overlaps the drug lord’s meeting with Lucy, for example– but since it inexplicably stops after a half-hour or so, apparently even Besson must have realized it was an annoying plot device, and he wisely abandons it.

On the plus side, Lucy is over quickly (less than 90 minutes, including credits). I tell you that, though, not so you’ll go see it, but so you appreciate how much of your life I just gave you back.

1/5 stars