arly-rising, high-functioning, multi-tasking mother Tess Coleman (Jamie Lee Curtis) couldn’t be more opposite from her late-sleeping, punk-rock-loving, ardently rebellious 15-year-old daughter Anna (Lindsay Lohan). When the two girls’ incessant squabbling finds its way into Pei-Pei’s (Rosalind Chao) Chinese restaurant, the establishment’s meddling mother (Lucille Soong) puts a fortune cookie hex on the two Coleman women, causing them to swap bodies until they literally learn to walk in each other’s shoes. Now, Tess must navigate the labyrinthine strifes of high school life, complete with tormenting bullies, vengeful teachers, and a dreamy motorcycle-riding bad boy (Chad Michael Murray), while Anna faces overbearing therapy patients, impromptu talk show appearances, and dinner rehearsals with her mom’s soon-to-be new husband Ryan (Mark Harmon).

Accustomed to dealing with the oftentimes severely needy patrons of her therapy office, Tess attempts to parent Anna like a patient instead of a daughter. The audience spends only a little time with the Coleman ladies as they truly are, and instead of presenting authentic people, easily relatable tropes are substituted. Tess is overly nit-picky about every one of Anna’s decisions and sides exclusively with troublemaking kid brother Harry (Ryan Malgarini). Anna is in a burgeoning punk rock band that practices in the family garage, skirmishes with the blonde squad of “mean girls,” habitually lands in detention, and falls for the older boy at school – who of course rides a motorcycle. The personalities and circumstances are boldly stereotypical, working to push connections with the characters that aren’t always earned – but are nevertheless effective. It’s not until the switch, however, that the film truly begins to shine.

Curtis and Lohan have an undeniable chemistry that emerges once they start playing each other. Their comedic timing, mimicry, and deft handling of the preposterously cringe-inducing scenarios crafted for ultimate embarrassment give the movie both its charm and uproariousness. Not every sequence is a hit, and the supporting characters that are played primarily for comedy relief are unnecessary and generally curtail the mood, but it’s not long before one of the two main stars steers the spirit back in the proper direction.

“Freaky Friday’s” conflicts are universal ones. On the daughter’s side, more so; dealing with peers both adversarial and amorous are concepts almost everyone has navigated throughout young adulthood. The begrudging teacher should also resonate, as will the romantic interest heavily steeped in every trait a parent would denounce but a teenager would idolize. On the mother’s side, the realities of responsibility stand tallest, though the situations concocted play mostly for laughs. Miss Coleman’s attempts to maneuver Mrs. Coleman’s slew of zany clients or the doting advances of the groom rarely show the true stresses of work, play, parenthood, or matrimonial planning. The enamored barista’s sudden reversal back to reality and the consequences of over-avenging minor wrongs are mostly overlooked leading to some head-scratching conclusions, but the picture’s heart is largely in the right place.

Many remakes struggle to justify their existence. “Freaky Friday” builds upon a strong foundation and modernizes the material enough that newer generations should recognize the mother/daughter contentions and empathetic themes of clashing with authority, managing obligations, and coming to terms with unexpectedly changing family dynamics. While the dialogue doesn’t always complement the humor or the drama, the strong female leads do. Pathos and levity are pulled with ease from both subtle moments and outrageously awkward ones, offering a dash of real magic alongside the illusory kind.

– Joel Massie