Netflix’s Lonely Planet: Liam Hemsworth’s Owen is a precious little manbaby and not a romantic lead

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR LONELY PLANET

It’s apt that Laura Dern and Liam Hemsworth’s romantic drama was called Lonely Planet, which is currently the number one streaming movie on Netflix.

In the absence of sizzle and chemistry between its two leads, at least it provided plenty of travelogue inspiration. You need the seductions of Morocco to sustain your investment in this film because everything else, especially the so-called romance at the centre of it has as much fire as an iceberg.

Lonely Planet is not a romantic drama so much as it is a warning for red flag traits disguised as a “sensitive, nice” guy. Except the movie isn’t in on it, it’s delulu.

The film stars Dern as Katherine, a novelist who’s blocked trying to write her next book. She has just separated from her long-term partner and has been evicted from the idyllic farmhouse they shared.

When she is invited to a writers’ retreat in Morocco, she thinks it’ll be the perfect place to break the back on her novel, but only if she can find a quiet spot away from the rest of the authors.

In her attempts to not socialise, she is accidentally thrust together with Owen (Hemsworth), the boyfriend tagging along with his girlfriend Lily (Diana Silvers), who had a sensational debut.

Both loners in paradise, Katherine and Owen grow closer together and, shock horror, they make ga-ga eyes at each other, then there’s a forbidden near-kiss by the pool and, eventually, full consummation.

If you were paying attention, Owen already had a girlfriend. That was clear in the trailers so you knew the story was going to have to break them up in some way so that he wasn’t a total cheating cad.

He may not have been an absolute bounder, but Owen is not a worthy romantic lead. No wonder Lonely Planet felt like such a letdown. No one should want this man, even if he has Hemsworth abs.

The script positioned Lily and Owen as not being on the same page. He told Katherine that Lily was different since she became famous — note that he said this to a stranger that wasn’t his therapist, nor the girlfriend he was supposedly committed to. Not so much with the open communication.

There was also a scene in which she appeared to belittle him in a group setting. They’re playing a game in which they have to give clues about the identity of the person on the slip of paper in their hand.

Owen picked Pip, who, considering the context that they were all literary figures, he really should have known was from Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations. That he doesn’t isn’t necessarily a slight on him so much as it is on the American education system.

OK, so Lily makes fun of him a little — “Owen only reads Sports Illustrated” — but it’s not the most humiliating thing you could say about someone. Unless that someone is overly precious and a pill.

When she tells him great news about being signed for another book deal with “real” money, instead of congratulating her, he’s sullen.

He also seems to resent being there with her. Instead of making a genuine effort to connect with the other people at this retreat, he acts as if it is an imposition for him to be there at all.

Look, we’ve all had to “babysit” a partner in social situations where it really would’ve been better if they’d stayed home. But we’re all adults, and Owen should’ve put his game face on and made an effort instead of dragging his girlfriend down with him, and making her carry the emotional burden of whether he’s having a good time.

Be responsible for your own mood and don’t chill hers.

After that, he and Lily finally half-have it out. When she tells him that it has always frustrated her that he is not culturally engaged, he says to her, “enjoy your time, I’ll stay out of your way”. Pretty passive-aggressive.

That night, he and Katherine engage in that little almost smoochy smooch by the pool. Lips may not have locked but it was definitely over the line for a man who was still in a relationship. It also only didn’t happen because he objected to being called a “kid”. Again with the thin skin.

When he and Lily finally break up the next morning, she’s the one to initiate the conversation and she’s the one who, generously, takes responsibility. “I know we’ve been off, I’ve been off,” she says without him chiming in at any point to acknowledge his own culpability.

She tells him she knows he’s been unhappy and that have both been unhappy. His only response is “Do you even like me?” because, of course, it’s all about Owen. She offers to go home, start over, when her phone pings, and up pops a message from one of the other guests, and it’s a topless photo of Lily with the text, “Need to see you like this again”.

Right. So Lily has been caught having a dalliance with another man. But on the same night Owen was trying to start something with Katherine. He sees the message, gives her a look and goes, “pffft” and walks off.

Let’s take stock here. She stuffed up. But so did he. In that moment, he should’ve owned up to his betrayal and had an honest conversation about why they both stepped out and why they were both unhappy. The key here is both. Instead, he lets her believe she is the only reason for their break-up and just abandons her on the spot. It’s verging on gaslighting.

Owen is not a good guy. He’s an arsehole who won’t communicate, refuses to take responsibility and gets his hackles up at the first sign of criticism.

It’s especially obvious when you consider that two weeks ago, Nobody Wants This gave us an onscreen example of a man who is emotionally open, vulnerable and embraces the messiness of a multifaceted woman.

That Lonely Planet is foisting Owen on the audience as a romantic lead instead of calling out his awful behaviour is particularly galling when you consider a woman, Susannah Grant, wrote and directed this film.

No wonder the movie leaves you feeling so cold. Justice for Lily.

Lonely Planet is streaming on Netflix