Lindsay Lohan’s Netflix movies go from atrocious to merely bad

It’s another holiday with Lindsay.

In her three-picture deal with Netflix, Lindsay Lohan has been churning out braincell-bursting seasonal movies since 2022.

There was the unbearable “Falling for Christmas,” in which an injury causes a stuck-up hotel heiress to lose her memory. She’s forced to recover at a struggling ski-town bed and breakfast, where the vacuous woman, with extreme difficulty, learns how to make eggs.

Then, in March, came the St. Patrick’s Day-pegged “Irish Wish.” O’Dius. Lohan got an intellectual upgrade playing a Manhattan book editor who dreams of marrying the untalented author she works with. At his wedding to another woman in Ireland, an ancient fairy, dressed like a Ren Faire reject, grants her silly request.  

But this week our long national nightmare is over. I hope. I pray. Her supposedly last hurrah for the streamer, out Wednesday, is called “Our Little Secret.” 

It’s no secret how I feel about it: Hard pass.

What is Lohan’s man trouble this time? 

While visiting her boyfriend Cameron’s (Jon Rudnitsky) strict, nose-up family for Christmas, her frazzled character Avery — identical to the last two — discovers that his little sister’s new beau is actually her ex, Logan (Ian Harding). They broke up 10 years prior when she took a job in London and turned down his ill-timed marriage proposal.

So, the former lovers, in cahoots, decide to pretend to not know each other to protect their promising new relationships.

Screenwriter Hailey DeDominicis works like the dickens to turn this tiny scheme into a coverup of Watergate proportions.

There’s a mishap involving a dog and a veterinarian, a mix-up during a Secret Santa exchange and a irreverent rendition of Kool & The Gang’s “Celebration” at church. But “The Parent Trap,” this is not.

The sole lovable addition to Haus Lohan is Kristin Chenoweth as Cameron’s judgmental, persnickety mother Erica. The “Wicked” actress fits snugly in sentimental, over-the-top scenarios like this one and makes us delight — as much as we can, anyway — in her Mom from Hell’s kitchen-table savagery. 

But even Kristin can’t make logical sense of all the tonal strangeness of this film, directed by Stephen Herek.

Although a quick summary would suggest that “Our Little Secret” is the simplest and most domestic of Lohan’s trilogy of terror, the devices that lead to its wrap-up are anything but Hallmark happy: A grandmother’s dementia and infidelity ending a long-term marriage.

No laughs or tears at any of those downers — only cringes.

Upon hearing that I was reviewing “Our Little Secret,” a friend posed a smart question: “Why?”

These movies don’t aspire to much — as art or entertainment. They’re wintry background noise like the mountain of schlock Hallmark and Lifetime air non-stop for the holidays. Yule log videos with actors.

The answer, of course, is Lohan. I’m struck by amnesia every time one of these things get released, thinking this might be the good one. My Irish wish is that the actress, a real talent, will make a terrific comeback. My little secret is that I’m a big fan.

But three’s a turkey. Onto “Freaky Friday 2.”