Screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna is like the McDonald’s of female-friendly rom-coms. She churns ’em out good and regular, and the meals always taste about the same. There’s no denying that one of her earlier creations, “The Devil Wears Prada,” was something of the “Citizen Kane” of working-girl-gets-it-all movies. But in this rom-com factory, sometimes the deep-fryer’s not working right and you’re left with the tepid mush that all these films really are.

Food talk aside — because really, who in this cast actually eats it, besides maybe Christina Hendricks — this is a film based on the book by the same name. By most accounts, it was a palatable story about a mom whose demanding job sometimes puts her at odds with mommy duties. Translated to movie shorthand, it becomes a screechy caricature that leaves little room for subtlety.

There’s no room to doubt if this woman is anything less than a modern-day martyr, because the script is pushing the message home so forcefully that any faults she has are nothing compared to the amazingness of what she’s undertaking. It’s like listening to someone do the humble-brag for 90 minutes.

The scribe of “DWP,” “27 Dresses” and “Morning Glory” might’ve made some really tasty Big Macs in her time — but every once in a while, she’s going to churn out a soggy Filet-O-Fish. So please pass the tartar sauce.

 
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