THREE HUNDRED AND TWELVE? To understand Mr. and Mrs. Smith, whose screenplay was after all someone's film school Master's thesis, you need to understand the cinematic genre which Stanley Cavell dubbed 'the comedy of remarriage':

The title 'remarriage' registers the grouping of a set of comedies which differ from classical comedy in various respects, but most notably in this: In classical comedy the narrative shows a young pair overcoming obstacles to their love and at the end achieving marriage, whereas comedies of remarriage begin or climax with a pair less young, getting or threatening their divorce, so that the drive of the narrative is to get them back together, together again. The central idea is that the validity or bond of marriage is no longer assured or legitimizing by church or state or sexual compatibility or children but by something I call the willingness for remarriage, a way of continuing to affirm the happiness of one's initial leap, as if the chance of happiness exists only when it seconds itself. In classical comedy people made for one another find one another; in remarriage comedy people who have found one another find that they are made for each other.

(Cavell lists some contemporary examples here; one I'd certainly add as an exemplar is Peggy Sue Got Married.)

Anyway, so that's where we are, and, in so many ways, Mr. and Mrs. Smith could have been as good as Face/Off when it comes to Summer Action Movies With Great Overarching Metaphors -- spouses who are literally trying to kill each other; the physical destruction of the home mimicking the emotional destruction of the marriage, etc. Many of the dual meaning lines are quite witty, and Pitt and Jolie have good chemistry. Their Movie Star-ness carries them a long way, and some of the action sequences are kewl.

But. But while it's laid out perfectly on a structurally level, it just doesn't work emotionally. You understand that they're going to get back together somehow, but you don't really care about either of them. The movie wants to be The War of the Roses with a happier ending, but the resonance just isn't there. Compare it to Face/Off, in which you really are worried about Joan Allen and the marriage, as well as caring for the Gina Gershon character and the kid -- none of the depth is felt here.

Also big flaw: the movie's bad guys are never seen. We're left with the Smiths fighting an anonymous hitman/ninja army, and we never get to The Big Battle With El Jefe or find out how, exactly . . . [well, I can't spoil the whole thing.] You don't get the satisfaction that the genre would seem to require.

More: can we declare an official moratorium on Vince Vaughn still playing the role of Vince Vaughn? One comeback performance was enough, and he no longer adds anything to a movie. Nor is Adam Brody (the O.C.'s Seth Cohen) ready to take on a role of any significance in a movie, though some might be amused by the scene in which he's wearing a Fight Club t-shirt in front of Pitt. (I wasn't.)

Nor do we need to see another movie in which lots of stuff gets blow'd up and many people die but in which not a single police officer appears. (A final goof: for a movie set in the NYC area, you'd think they could have gotten rid of the "Los Angeles City Limits" sign in the middle of the three BMW chase scene.)

It's not as bad as Jeffrey Wells said it was. It's not a dumb movie; it's just not smart enough to work through its central conceit properly. You will occasionally laugh, and occasionally smile (any movie using an Air Supply song can't suck too badly), but you will leave disappointed.

There is one bonus, however: you'll probably see a really neat trailer first.

CHARLIE MANUEL MAY SUFFER FROM REGULAR BRAIN CRAMPS, BUT HE SEEMS TO KNOW HOW TO MANAGE PEOPLE: The Philadelphians among us should enjoy a new site added to our blogroll, Shallow Center, a website dedicated "to baseball, pop culture, and other important matters".

TOM BRADFORD HAS EIGHT FREAKIN' KIDS AND HE CAN'T EVEN GET AN HONORABLE MENTION? Now usually I think TiVo users are a sharp lot, but I'm at a loss trying to figure out this list of TV's 25 Greatest Dads that was culled from responses by 1,000 TiVo owners (related news story complete with worthless quotes from men and women on the street here). I'll grant you that the names on the top of the list like Cliff Huxtable, Andy Taylor, and Mike Brady were all pretty positive role models in a fatherly way, but things get disturbing starting with No. 11, Mr. Drummond (I don't like to confuse fact and fiction, but you can't ignore the way Willis and Kimberly turned out, can you?). Other dads of questionable repute on the list include Red Forman, Frank Costanza, Al Bundy, Homer Simpson, Peter Griffin, Tony Soprano, and Ozzy Osbourne (but not Ozzie Nelson).

Might I offer a list of my own suggestions of TV dads deserving more consideration?

• Uncle Bill--taking in those three kids like he did and keeping his "relationship" with Mr. French behind closed doors as not to scar them.
• Mr. Eddie's Father--come on he called his kid "his best friend."
• Steven Keaton--dealt with Alex's conservatism, Malorie's idiocy, and his youngest daughter's ugliness with class and aplomb.
• Laverne's Dad--owned a bowling alley.
• Captain Stubbing--looked the other way when Isaac would slip a little something extra in Vicki's virgin coladas.
• Fred Sanford--he deserved better than Lamont, someone nice like Boom Boom Washington, JJ, or Rerun.
  
• Gomez Adams--creepy and ooky, all together spooky, how cool is that?
  
• Herman Munster--do I need to even explain?
• Rob Petrie--never yelled at Richie for leaving the Ottoman where he could trip over it.
• Tom Bradford--eight freakin' kids?
• Ben Cartwright--named his kid Hoss.
• Hank Hill--a better animated pick than the father from The Family Guy.
  
• Pops Racer--he built the Mach V and despite the heartache of never knowing that Racer X was his son, he soldiered on, treating Chim-Chim like his own kin and becoming a model for simian stewardship later inspiring BJ McKay to treat his best friend Bear as an equal.
  
• Jed Clampett--rich and less creepy than Mr. Drummond.
• Geroge Jefferson--worked hard so Lionel could live in a deee-luxe apartment in the sky.

Any other TV dads you think deserve more recognition?

I FEEL LIKE KEVIN ARNOLD: For those of you who weren't already in love (or lust) with Danica McKellar as Winnie Cooper or as Elsie Snuffin, or found her math proof (warning, incomprehensible PDF) oddly titilating, now, she poses for Stuff Magazine in her underwear. (You probably have an idea whether or not that's safe for work.)

NO, HE DOESN'T SAY "ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?" Cinderella Man is by no means a bad movie. Like most of Ron Howard's movies, it's completely competently made, with a minimum of flair. In fact, Howard's attempts to “flair up” the movie by quick intercuts of flashback material during the fight sequences are the weakest part of the movie. That said, it's also a movie where several of the performances wind up being better than the movie.

Both Crowe and Giamatti, as they pretty much invariably do, deliver fine performances, mixing rage, indignation, and anger that help to temper the film's general sentimentality. Zellweger fares less well, though that's largely a function of her generally underwritten part. The movie's also a little long. In fact, the entire subplot involving Braddock's friend who becomes a fiery labor organizer feels out of place, either needing to be cut out entirely or developed more so as to draw a more effective contrast with Braddock's own story. Right now, it just kind of hangs out there.

So is it an Oscar frontrunner? For the moment, yeah, at least for Crowe, Giamatti (who I think has a very good chance at winning this year), and Thomas Newman's score.I doubt it'll hold up, as it's a weaker boxing movie than Million Dollar Baby was and a weaker inspirational movie about a Depression-era underdog than Seabiscuit.

THE LAWYERS ARE GONNA NEED A BIGGER BOAT: Now, I'm a touch confused as to why this weekend's release of Robert "Story? What story? It looks cool!" Rodriguez's The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl in 3-D would bear any interest for people above the age of, say, 12 (though I'll admit that I think Spy Kids is a wonderful little film which balances the "cool" factor with having a storyline). That said, sometime professional wrestler Dean Roll has sued various entities and individuals involved with the film, claiming that the film infringes on his federally registered SHARK BOY mark for his professional wrestling personality.

THE FURNACE, SHE ISN'T BURNING: This is turning out to be a very fruitful discussion, teasing out minority opinions about movie and music. To wit, what recording artist do you simply not get? I have only fallen asleep at paid entertainment twice. Once, when I saw Bob Dylan in concert (Oakland, July 24, 1986), the other time watching Alien 4. Maybe I don't like Dylan because I'm always told -- as some tribute to my Baby Boom cultural masters -- that I must. I don't, but that may be simple reactionarism.

What I really don't get -- and for this I might lose posting privileges -- is Bruce Springsteen. I don't know that I have a great explanation for this. I know he's significant and important and great. But, gwah! I haven't listened to a Springsteen song straight through in 20 years. I just find it so damned tedious.