First Daughter, not to be confused with the Sinbad masterpiece First Kid, is another one of those crappy, disposable fluff pictures that's cut from the same cloth as The Prince and Me and The Princess Diariah...er,um...Princess Diaries. Before anyone jumps down my throat, let it be known that I'm all for a simplistic romantic comedy, but the previously mentioned batch of films are more like methods of torture. In the case of First Daughter, the most disheartening thing is the fact that I really dig Katie Holmes. She's cute and likable and a hell of a lot more interesting than this movie makes her look.

In this would-be comedy, Holmes is Samantha Mackenzie, the President's daughter. Determined to lead her own life, she heads off to college. Through the aid of her new and feisty friend Liz and a strikingly handsome college boy (Marc Blucas), Samantha comes close to leading a normal existence until her powerful father (played by Michael Keaton) intervenes. (Chasing Liberty, anyone?)

Holmes has that killer smile and when she flashes it, I get that warm and fuzzy feeling inside. She has that same sort of "girl-next-door" vibe that made Meg Ryan a star fifteen years ago. If she's not careful, her career might go in the same direction as Ryan's has been currently. In all honesty, I don't think anyone could have elevated this role above the stale material. Holmes' sweet, innocent personality wears thin by the middle of the movie because her situation in First Daughter becomes increasingly ridiculous.

A miscast Michael Keaton shows up as the most powerful man in the country. While I'm a huge fan of Keaton (check out his amazing dramatic chops in the underrated Clean and Sober), I never once bought him as the President in this movie. It just never worked for me. Perhaps if the writing had been stronger (as it was for Michael Douglas in The American President), I could have digested this stuff, but as it stands, most of First Daughter lacked anything remotely resembling smarts. I know, I know - this isn't supposed to be The West Wing. It's just a fluffy date movie. Sadly, it doesn't even work on that level.

In fact, there's a plot twist in this picture that is so unbelievably fake and so downright absurd, that I just sort of gave up on the rest of the film. I didn't leave. I stayed until the bitter end, a lame fairy tale send off that, more than anything, proves that director Forest Whitaker (a terrific actor, but an uneven director) has a strong affection for Audrey Hepburn. But then who doesn't? Hepburn was a magnificent screen presence, but she never would have touched a project like this.

I still have hope for Holmes, even though she has this stinker and the equally lame Abandon to her credit, I loved her fiery southern vixen in The Gift, and her troubled young adult in Pieces of April and I can't wait to see her in the upcoming Batman Begins.