There’s the kind of movie where a trio of estranged childhood pals rediscovers the power of friendship. There’s the kind of movie where any car on the great American highway system could have three teen hotties in it. There’s the kind of movie that seems like a very extensive trailer for a music video coming soon to Total Request Live (in this kind of movie, Teen Hottie B is often played by a major pop star). There’s the kind of movie where you spend a lot time thinking, “Hey, didn’t this director make Guncrazy?” There’s the kind of movie where, when the car breaks down, there’s always a big-money karaoke bar in the neighborhood (see previous note re Teen Hottie B). There’s the kind of movie where you spend a lot of time wondering what it would be like without the casting of the major pop star, because Teen Hottie A seems to be an excellent actress. You wish you cared even a little about Teen Hottie C. You wish there were either more or fewer scenes which contrived to put Teen Hottie B in underwear, lingerie, a towel, or big-money karaoke costume. You spend a lot of time wondering, “Better or worse than Glitter?” You think if the projectionist cranked the volume a little you could actually sort of get into this. You realize this is the kind of movie where B, the valedictorian/virgin/big-money karaoke genius, discovers that the mom who abandoned her years ago is a star of Sex in the City, which is somehow much worse than how her dad is a Blues Brother. You marvel at the cruel and wonderful math of teen movies. With a family like that, you are thinking during the finale, as B auditions for the right to play herself on MTV, how could you lose?