Jim Carrey compelling as a con man

Jim Carrey brings dynamo force to the story of a brilliant con man and the guy he loved.

Jim Carrey might be the closest we’ll ever get to a perpetual motion machine in movies. Carrey's irrepressible will seems to drive everything he does, but his high-beam energy and toothy smile serve seldom have served him better than in I Love You Phillip Morris, a movie based on the true story of con man Steven Russell.

During a criminal career that was most active during the ‘90s, Russell posed as an attorney and as a chief financial officer. He was caught a variety of times, and staged several escapes from prison. He evidently excelled at being a criminal and at sidestepping the consequences of his actions -- at least for a while.

Directors Glen Ficarra  and John Requa treat Russell’s story as a platform for energetic comedy, moving from scene-to-scene with hells-a-poppin’ fury. They give the movie a near-antic quality that both complements Carrey’s performance and obliterates thinking time for the audience. It’s almost as if Ficarra and Requa decided that Russell’s story was so intriguing, they had no reason to tack on thematic exclamation points.

Still, I Love You Phillip Morris is more than a con-man caper movie. It’s also a gay love story that blossoms during one of Steven’s prison sentences. In a Texas penitentiary, Steven meets Phillip Morris (Ewan McGregor), a sensitive southerner who looks to Steven for both love and protection.

Carrey and McGregor play a convincing duet. Phillip falls under Steven's spell, devoting most of his attention to his lover. Steven, on the other hand, juggles a cornucopia of activities – his life with Phillip, his various scams and lots of wanton spending.

None of this has anything to do with how the movie starts. When the movie opens, Steven -- working as a police officer at the time -- is living what appears to be a conventional life. He's married to a religious woman (Leslie Mann) with whom he has a daughter.

When Steven tells us about his gayness – in a narration that runs throughout the movie – he does so with zesty relish. He treats his gayness in breezy, by-the-way fashion. Like just about everything else in Steven’s life, his sexual orientation is presented as an in-your-face fact, not as an issue for judgment.

Steven either doesn’t see (or refuses to acknowledge that he sees) anything strained about announcing his gayness while he’s still married. And although, Steven often experiences bouts of panic when the police are closing in, he appears to be immune to either guilt or remorse – except perhaps in matters concerning Phillip.

A sense of infectious wildness pervades the material, which requires a generous appreciation of absurdity. If the movie had a mantra, it might go something like this: The world is loopy. Don't try to make sense of it.

I don’t know exactly what we learn from Steven’s story, but I do know that I Love You Phillip Morris moves in lively fashion and that Carrey has delivered a performance that amounts to a sustained act of daring. Not because he's playing a gay man, but because he's playing a character who does despicable things -- but usually without shame. It’s almost as if Steven’s so damn confident about his dynamism that he believes no one possibly could hold his criminality against him.

Broadcast Film Critics release nominations

Black Swan received a record-breaking 12 nominations from the Broadcast Film Critics Association.

The Broadcast Film Critics Association, a group to which I belong, has issued the results of its first round of year-end voting. The group's awards ceremony -- to be broadcast live on VH1 on Jan. 14 -- has often served as a bellwether for the Academy Awards. Oscar hopefuls take note: Black Swan led the BFCA field with 12 nominations. Director Darren Aronofsky's movie was followed by The King's Speech and True Grit, each of which garnered 11 nominations.

Here's the BFCA list:

NOMINATIONS FOR THE 16th ANNUAL CRITICS’ CHOICE MOVIE AWARDS

BEST PICTURE
127 Hours
Black Swan
The Fighter
Inception
The King’s Speech
The Social Network
The Town
Toy Story 3
True Grit
Winter’s Bone
BEST ACTOR
Jeff Bridges – True Grit
Robert Duvall – Get Low
Jesse Eisenberg – The Social Network
Colin Firth – The King’s Speech
James Franco – 127 Hours
Ryan Gosling – Blue Valentine
BEST ACTRESS
Annette Bening – The Kids Are All Right
Nicole Kidman – Rabbit Hole
Jennifer Lawrence – Winter’s Bone
Natalie Portman – Black Swan
Noomi Rapace – The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo
Michelle Williams – Blue Valentine
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
Christian Bale – The Fighter
Andrew Garfield – The Social Network
Jeremy Renner – The Town
Sam Rockwell – Conviction
Mark Ruffalo – The Kids Are All Right
Geoffrey Rush – The King’s Speech
BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Amy Adams – The Fighter
Helena Bonham Carter – The King’s Speech
Mila Kunis – Black Swan
Melissa Leo – The Fighter
Hailee Steinfeld – True Grit
Jacki Weaver – Animal Kingdom
BEST YOUNG ACTOR/ACTRESS
Elle Fanning – Somewhere
Jennifer Lawrence – Winter’s Bone
Chloe Grace Moretz – Let Me In
Chloe Grace Moretz – Kick-Ass
Kodi Smit-McPhee – Let Me In
Hailee Steinfeld – True Grit
BEST ACTING ENSEMBLE
The Fighter
The Kids Are All Right
The King’s Speech
The Social Network
The Town
BEST DIRECTOR
Darren Aronofsky – Black Swan
Danny Boyle – 127 Hours
Joel Coen & Ethan Coen – True Grit
David Fincher – The Social Network
Tom Hooper – The King’s Speech
Christopher Nolan – Inception
BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY
Another Year – Mike Leigh
Black Swan – Mark Heyman and Andres Heinz and John McLaughlin
The Fighter – Scott Silver and Paul Tamasy & Eric Johnson (Story by Keith Dorrington & Paul Tamasy & Eric Johnson)
Inception – Christopher Nolan
The Kids Are All Right – Lisa Cholodenko and Stuart Blumberg
The King’s Speech – David Seidler
BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY
127 Hours – Simon Beaufoy and Danny Boyle
The Social Network – Aaron Sorkin
The Town – Ben Affleck, Peter Craig and Sheldon Turner
Toy Story 3 – Michael Arndt (Story by John Lasseter, Andrew Stanton and Lee Unkrich) True Grit – Joel Coen & Ethan Coen
Winter’s Bone – Debra Granik and Anne Rosellini
BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY
127 Hours – Anthony Dod Mantle
Black Swan – Matthew Libatique
Inception – Wally Pfister
The King’s Speech – Danny Cohen
True Grit – Roger Deakins
BEST ART DIRECTION
Alice in Wonderland – Stefan Dechant
Black Swan – Therese DePrez and Tora Peterson
Inception – Guy Hendrix Dyas
The King’s Speech – Netty Chapman
True Grit – Jess Gonchor and Nancy Haigh
BEST EDITING
127 Hours – Jon Harris
Black Swan – Andrew Weisblum
Inception – Lee Smith
The Social Network – Angus Wall and Kirk Baxter
BEST COSTUME DESIGN
Alice in Wonderland – Colleen Atwood
Black Swan – Amy Westcott
The King’s Speech – Jenny Beavan
True Grit – Mary Zophres
BEST MAKEUP
Alice in Wonderland
Black Swan
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1
True Grit
BEST VISUAL EFFECTS
Alice in Wonderland
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part
Inception
Tron: Legacy
BEST SOUND
127 Hours
Black Swan
Inception
The Social Network
Toy Story 3
BEST ANIMATED FEATURE
Despicable Me
How to Train Your Dragon
The Illusionist
Tangled
Toy Story 3
BEST ACTION MOVIE
Inception
Kick-Ass
Red
The Town
Unstoppable
BEST COMEDY
Cyrus
Date Night
Easy A
Get Him to the Greek
I Love You Phillip Morris
The Other Guys
BEST PICTURE MADE FOR TELEVISION
The Pacific
Temple Grandin
You Don’t Know Jack
BEST FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM
Biutiful
I Am Love
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURe Exit Through the Gift Shop Inside Job Restrepo Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work The Tillman Story Waiting for Superman
BEST SONG I See the Light – performed by Mandy Moore & Zachary Levi/written by Alan Menken & Glenn Slater – Tangled If I Rise – performed by Dido and A.R. Rahman/music by A.R. Rahman/lyrics by Dido Armstrong and Rollo Armstrong – 127 Hours Shine – performed and written by John Legend – Waiting for Superman We Belong Together – performed and written by Randy Newman – Toy Story 3 You Haven’t Seen the Last of Me Yet – performed by Cher/written by Diane Warren – Burlesque
BEST SCORE Black Swan – Clint Mansell Inception – Hans Zimmer The King’s Speech – Alexandre Desplat The Social Network – Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross True Grit – Carter Burwell

Portman spreads her wings in 'Black Swan'

Director Darren Aronofsky's latest is at its best when its wild, furious and flirting with incoherence.

Black Swan begins with Natalie Portman - as ballerina Nina Sayers - dancing in a dream. It doesn't take long for an ominous-looking figure to invade Nina's sleep, thereby establishing the strategy that increasingly will dominate director Darren Aronofsky's arty thrill ride of a movie: Sensation will trump sense, and the movie's commitment to overstatement will be frenzied and brazen -- even intrusive.

Say this: Black Swan has a pulse, a feeling of agitated, intoxicating brilliance. Part thriller, part horror movie and part trippy exploration of the clash between reality and mad vision, Black Swan nonetheless is all of a piece.

In the world of ballet, Aronofsky has found an environment that allows him to move beyond the muddled excesses of The Fountain and the sweat-stained realism of The Wrestler. Black Swan is a movie about performance: Portman's, the main character's and, ultimately, Aronofsky's. It's almost as if the movie wants to merge all three in an act of furious consummation.

The story is relatively simple. Portman's Nina dreams of dancing the lead role in Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, a ballet that tells the story of a princess trapped in the body of a swan. To achieve liberation, the princess must win the heart of a prince. But a black swan also vies for the prince's affections. The same dancer typically dances the roles of the black and white swans.

Portman's Nina has dancing chops, but her repressed sexuality keeps her from fully emerging as the Black Swan. A tyrannical ballet master (Vincent Cassel) goads and bullies Nina toward sexual liberation, telling her that she must "let go'' in order to achieve total command of the role.

This is no easy task. Nina can't quite cross the threshold into womanhood. She shares an apartment with her domineering and sometimes resentful mother (Barbara Hershey) and sleeps in a room full of stuffed animals, not the most subtle of clues but still weirdly effective.

More than a gloss on Freudian themes, Black Swan is a balls-to-the-wall display of cinematic showmanship. Nervous to the point of impatience, Aronofsky's hand-held cameras move toward a finale in which the director searches for a dark and beautiful triumph. Does he find it? You'll have to judge for yourself.

Despite obvious differences, Black Swan covers some of the same ground as The Wrestler. Aronofsky's interested in the merging of personality and role in fulfilling acts of sacrifice. And just as The Wrestler introduces us to the grubby, locker rooms and physical torments of second-tier wrestling, Black Swan exposes us to the pain involved in preparing to dance.

Similarities, yes, but Black Swan plays to Aronofsky's strengths in ways that prove more invigorating than anything in The Wrestler. Aronofsky gives full vent to Nina's stark hallucinations, sexual fantasies, looming fears and acts of self-mutilation. He also uses the world of ballet to create an atmosphere in which technique ultimately means nothing without risk.

Portman reportedly did a lot of her own dancing, but it doesn't take long to notice that a fair amount of Black Swan's dance sequences have been shot from the waist up. This is not to say that Portman's performance is in any way a cheat. She's entirely convincing as a ballerina who's being buffeted by forces she believes to be beyond her control. She's an Alice in a frightening ballet Wonderland.

Some of the images created by cinematographer Matthew Libatique are truly amazing. The sight of Portman dressed as the Black Swan and strutting imperiously across the stage evokes memories of Norma Desmond, the character Gloria Swanson played in Sunset Boulevard. It's a hyper-theatrical immersion in character that celebrates both daring and delusion.

Aronofsky's additional casting is quite good. Hershey makes a convincing monster mom, a woman who sacrificed her own ballet career to raise her daughter. Cassel nicely fills the outlines of a role that's geared toward arrogance and intimidation.

Mila Kunis manages to present the most recognizably human face in a drama in which nearly everyone seems to be wearing a mask of some sort. As Lily, a rival ballerina, Kunis is able almost to sound natural in an environment dominated by artifice.

Winona Ryder, shows up as a fading ballet star who falls into a suicidal depression when she's no longer fit to dance the great roles; she's an inspiration for Nina, as well as a warning.

My reaction to Black Swan varied as the movie danced its way through multiple genres. At times, I found it dizzying and compelling. At other times, I thought it was much ado about far too little. Some of the movie's "horror" ploys struck me as embarrassingly garish. But even when Black Swan flirted with incoherence, I admired its dark showmanship.

Aronofsky isn't telling a great or even novel story, and he certainly owes a major debt to Tchaikovsky, whose music helps establish an air of fretful anticipation. But like a dancer looking for perfect synchronization with a great piece of music, Aronofsky's clearly attempting to fly. When he does, Black Swan soars.

She's stuck in a post-collegiate limbo

Had the late Eric Rohmer been born a woman in contemporary America, he might have made a movie as self-consciously small as Tiny Furniture, a quietly engaging portrait of life in TriBeCa as lived by a recent college grad. * After returning home from college, Aura (Lena Dunham) moves in with her mom (Laurie Simmons) and her younger sister (Grace Dunham). Blood relations dominate both on and off screen: Simmons is the real mother of Lena Dunham, who also directed Tiny Furniture. Grace is her real sister. * Casual, funny and observant, Tiny Furniture may feel slight compared to more robust comedies, but its narrowness fits the sliver of life Dunham is intent on observing. Tiny Furniture is a low-consequence movie that perfectly captures a transitional moment. * The movie brings a variety of characters into Aura's narrowly defined world. It doesn't take long for Aura to hook up with a childhood friend played by the hilariously overdramatic Jemima Kirke. She also tries to establish relationships with a young You Tube sensation (David Call) and a chef (Alex Karpovsky) who works at the restaurant where Aura lands a job as a hostess. * In Tiny Furniture, Dunham distinguishes herself with intelligence and humor, not to mention a great ear for the kind of dialogue spoken by people who are well practiced in cleverness. In fact, Aura might be a prime example of a generation whose cleverness constitutes its greatest accomplishment. * Don't take that as a knock. Dunham shows little inclination to paper over the pretensions, shallowness and self-absorption of lives as yet unsullied by significant events. * True to its title, Tiny Furniture is a small curiosity, a movie made by someone who clearly knows the scene in which she skillfully immerses us. * Put another way, Tiny Furniture answers a question I hadn't really thought about before: What happens when smart people have nothing much to be smart about?

A town where it's always World War II

A documentary helps us think about what it means to create an artificial reality -- and live in it..

Dolls at war in Marwencol.

When the year's top documentaries are announced, it's unlikely that Marwencol will appear on many short lists. That may have something to do with the fact that Marwencol shares no kinship with the kind of socio-political documentaries (Waiting for Superman and Inside Job) that currently dominate the non-fiction scene. Working against the trendy grain, director Jeff Malmberg has made a character study -- and an odd one at that.

Malmberg takes an immersive look at the strange life of Mark Hogancamp, a man of stunning peculiarity. The movie also examines how an obsessive hobby can morph into highly praised outsider art, and poses an additionally fascinating question: Can something be deemed art if its creator had no artistic intentions in mind?

Marwencol, which played at the recently concluded Starz Denver Film Festival and which may find most of its audience on DVD, tells the story of Hogancamp, an alcoholic veteran who was severely beaten outside a bar in 2000.

Having "recovered," Hogancamp devotes most of his time to building and maintaining a miniature World War II village in his backyard. The town -- Marwencol by name -- is populated by Barbie and G.I. Joe dolls that Hogancamp painstakingly outfits in tiny costumes. But that's only half of the story. Thanks to Hogancamp's active imagination, the residents of Marwencol are involved in an on-going soap opera that dabbles in love, heroism, Nazi cruelty and occasional moments of rapprochement. Fair to say that Hogancamp lives inside a pulpy narrative that springs from a mind that treats its creations as if they were real.

Hogancamp photographs scenes in his mock village as he dreams up various story lines. His photographs of Marwencol have been shown in an upscale New York gallery, but -- or so it seems to me -- it's not so much the photographs that prove interesting, but a process that has come to consume Hogancamp's life.

I seem to have forgotten to mention that Hogancamp is also a cross-dresser who has struggled to express that part of himself in public.

Hogancamp's predilection for women's clothing aside, Marwencol is more than a freak show; it's a serious look at the ways in which alternate realities function. They can help us work through terrors too frightening for real life, but they also pose a danger, particularly when artistic sublimation borders on evasion.

Whatever you conclude about Hogancamp, you'll find him difficult to dismiss. After suffering a debilitating beating, he created a world for himself, and he's as committed to it as you might be to yours.

On the road and fleeing aliens

A savvy, low-budget indie that takes you by surprise.

With Monsters, British director Gareth Edwards has made the kind of movie that every aspiring indie filmmaker should see -- at least those who are interested in catching the eye of Hollywood's big boys.

At nearly every turn, Edwards maximizes the advantages and downplays the drawbacks of low-budget filmmaking, a reported $15,000. Of course, none of this would matter if Edwards didn't have a story to tell. He does, and it's an eerie and affecting one: Alien creatures are proliferating on Earth.

I know that sounds depressingly familiar, but by taking the burden off special effects, Edwards frees his powers of observation. He demonstrates a real feel for what it can be like to travel at a time when people are eager to cash in on catastrophe. He also makes terrific use of a variety of unfamiliar Central American locations, and builds his story around actors (Whitney Able and Scoot McNairy) who are good enough to keep us watching.

Able and McNairy play Sam and Andrew, characters who are trying to flee Mexico and return to the United States, where -- presumably -- they'll be safe from aliens that occupy a large "infected" zone south of the U.S.-Mexican border.

The relationship between Andrew and Sam doesn't exactly burn up the screen, but we get the idea. They're people who only could spend time together if forced into contact by an extreme circumstance -- in this case the threat of attack by alien creatures transported to Earth by a NASA probe. A photographer by trade, Andrew works for Sam's publisher father, an executive who sets the plot's road-movie elements in motion when he orders Andrew to escort his Mexico-based daughter home.

Perhaps to enhance the movie's allegorical aspirations, Edwards shows us a massive wall that the U.S. has built to keep the aliens out. If this sounds a little too evocative of current fears about so-called "illegals,'' you're on the right track. But Edwards compensates for this unfortunately obvious comparison by sustaining a simmering level of tension.

I mentioned a lack of emphasis on special effects, but that doesn't mean there are none. You can't have a monster movie without eventually showing the monster. To do this, Edwards created his own effects, blazing a path from his home computer to the big-screen.

When we finally see the creatures that give the movie its title, they look convinncing. Or convincing enough. Besides, Edward's sound design adds to the ominous atmosphere. Nothing like the bellowing groans of a "monster" to bristle the hair on the back of a neck.

Monsters may have a stronger life on DVD than it does in theaters, but Edwards' movie generates more involvement than lots of bigger productions, extravaganzas that squander fortunes and produce little more than scorn and boredom.

By taking his cameras to out-of-the-way places and knowing how to keep a story moving, Edwards creates a strange and ultimately haunting movie that catches us by surprise. He also reminds us that the most threatening "monster" stories may be those that are smart enough to keep their feet on the ground.

A quick look at an art-house weekend

Here's one dog story you haven't seen before.

Here's a truth that's not generally discussed. The owners of dogs spend more time than they'd like to admit pondering their pets bodily functions. Now comes a dog movie that not only acknowledges this hidden truth but takes it to a strangely idiosyncratic extreme. My Dog Tulip is a creatively animated version of a 1956 memoir by J. R. Ackerley, who served as arts editor for the BBC magazine, The Listener. Beautifully drawn and boasting excellent voice work (notably from Christopher Plummer) as Ackerley), the movie is so unlike most animal movies that it can be as disconcerting as it is cozy. Not only is Ackerley obsessive about Tulip's bowel movements, he also devotes considerable time to finding the proper mate for the Alsatian he rescued from a neglectful family. Directors Paul and Sandra Fierlinger have made a one-of-a-kind dog story that boasts a literate narration and an intriguing view of a man who spent 15 years with a creature that came closest to fulfilling his notion of the ideal companion.

Think 'My Big Fat Indian Restaurant'

Less quriky by far is the comedy, Today's Special, a look at the relationship between an Indian-American son and his family in Queens, N.Y. Generally, I'm a sucker for food movies, particularly those that spend lots of time in restaurant kitchens. Although this one traffics in some heavily sketched cliches -- think My Big Fat Indian Restaurant -- it nonetheless benefits from the aromas we imagine in the food we watch being prepared and from its very particular New York City setting. The story begins when Samir (Aasif Mandvi) quits his job as a sous chef to travel to Paris. His plans are thwarted when his father becomes ill; Samir reluctantly fills in for Dad at his restaurant, a once prosperous Indian joint that's fallen on hard times. To save the restaurant, Samir hires Akbar (Naseeruddin Shah), a cab driver who understands the mysteries of Indian cooking, knowledge that somehow eluded Samir. Samir learns to put passion in his cooking as the movie moves to resolve his relationship with a difficult-to-please father. Alternately corny and warm, Today's Special holds few surprises, but the food and Shah's sonorous voice add welcome seasoning.

A 'Rock' by any other name ...

He's out for blood and nothing will stop him. Faster is full of nasty, B-movie violence, but Dwayne Johnson may not be the right man for the job.

I was going to skip Faster, the new thriller starring Dwayne Johnson, the actor formerly known as The Rock. But when I saw that George Tillman, Jr had directed the movie, I changed my mind. Tillman, I remembered, had directed Notorious (2009), one of the better movies about a rapper's life. I figured Tillman could handle the down-and-dirty action that would be required if Faster were going to get its engine cranking. * A little better than you might expect (providing you have a taste for this sort of thing) and not as good as you might hope: That's the verdict on Faster, which minimizes Johnson's dialogue and pours on the hard-boiled, B-movie violence. * Watching Johnson in this kind of role makes you realize his limitations. It also encourages appreciation for what guys like Charles Bronson and Clint Eastwood were able to accomplish with revenge sagas. Those guys could look at you in ways that would cut you to pieces. * Johnson does the best he can as Driver, a newly released convict who's seeking revenge on the guys who killed his brother. Physically imposing as he is, Johnson seems to be stuck with a nice guy's face. * Billy Bob Thornton slips into fully ruined mode to play a heroin-addicted cop who tries to stop Johnson's character in mid-rampage. * Oliver Jackson-Cohen portrays a pretty boy British hit man who's been hired to take out the Driver. * If you're looking for point-blank violence, you won't have to wait long, but the movie tries to take the sting off its more exploitative aspects by adding a religious gloss, a mini-semon on forgiveness. * Enough. If you're looking for nasty B-movie thrills, Faster has some, although it also can test your patience for cliche and bad writing. * One more thing: If you can't see the final twist coming, you may want to have your movie vision checked.

Love, sex, drugs and too much else

It starts as if it's going to satirize the highly commercial world of Big Pharma. In the shift to romcom something is lost."

It's got drugs, love and sex, but these obviously volatile ingredients don't mesh especially well in Love & Other Drugs, a romantic comedy starring Jake Gyllenhaal and Anne Hathaway, both of whom sometimes bare as much body as they do soul. And, by the way, before you call the DEA, we're talking primarily about licit drugs of the prescription variety.

Love & Other Drugs starts out as if it's going to be a lively expose of the ways in which the pharmaceutical industry pressures and coaxes doctors into prescribing one drug over another.

But Big Pharma probably needn't fret. Love & Other Drugs proves too scatter shot to hit any target for long: In addition to romping through the highly commercialized fields of the drug industry, the movie also attempts to refresh a romcom formula, examine self-imposed emotional barriers and toss in a few crass jokes for good measure.

The surprising thing - at least to me - about Love & Other Drugs is that it was directed and co-written by Edward Zwick, who has made fine movies, but who also helped create the landmark TV show thirtysomething, which had plenty to say about relationships, work and young families. It's interesting that this time out, Zwick - whose best big-screen work includes movies such as Glory and Blood Diamond - can't quite find a pulse on which to put his finger.

For all its ambition, Love & Other Drugs may be remembered for a variety of nude scenes between Gyllenhaal and Hathaway, who now officially closes the cover on her Princess Diary days.

Gyllenhaal and Hathaway worked together in Brokeback Mountain, only in that movie his character was a married gay man. This time, Gyllenhaal goes hetero with a vengeance, playing Jamie Randall, a womanizing drug salesman who bribes receptionists and sometimes helps doctors with their ... ahem ... social lives.

The only physician given much attention in the film - an internist portrayed by Hank Azaria - seems a bit of a sleazebag himself. During one telling moment, Azaria's Dr. Knight laments the state of contemporary medicine. We might be have been more sympathetic had he not delivered his analysis at a pajama party that morphs into an upscale orgy.

By now, you're probably wondering what happened to the romantic comedy part of the movie. Let me get you up to speed on that.

During the course of his work, Gyllenhaal's Jamie meets Hathaway's Maggie Murdock, a young woman who has Parkinson's disease. She's interested in sex, not long-term relationships. She's also angry and emotionally defended, not a surprising combination for someone with an incurable disease.

The next two words tell you something very significant about the movie.... They're "of course."

Of course, Jamie and Maggie fall for each other, even though she's ill and he's a committed womanizer who heretofore has shown no interest in stable relationships. And, of course, they get close and then pull apart and then....

Well, you know the drill.

Gyllenhaal's running at high speed here, playing a whip-smart underachiever who dropped out of college. Hathaway's Maggie is an artist, who's brash in ways that emphasize her cleverness and her desire to hold the world at arm's length.

Zwick sets the movie in the 90s, a decade when the economy was on the rise and so were other things. The story takes place during the dawning of the age of Viagra, the drug that catapults Jamie into the financial stratosphere. Oliver Platt appears as Jamie's drug-company mentor.

The movie can be smart, but it's also marred by an unfortunate tendency to dip into Judd Apatow territory. Jamie's brother (Josh Gad), is a dweeby entrepreneur who adds unnecessary gross-out jokes to the proceedings. And there's joke about a drug-induced erection that won't subside; it sticks out like a .... Let's just say it's too cheap for a movie that seems intent on finding some real emotion.

Those emotions can seem genuine, although I sometimes found myself watching performances by Gyllenhaal and Hathaway rather than becoming involved with their characters, young people who were being forced -- albeit kicking and screaming -- into accepting love.

It would be remiss to conclude a review of Love & Other Drugs without mentioning that Jill Clayburgh, who died earlier this month after a prolonged battled with leukemia. She appears briefly as Jamie's mother. She's also slated to appear in a 2011 movie. RIP to a fine actress.

As a thirtysomething fan, I was eager to see Love & Other Drugs, hoping it would successfully take Zwick away from the historical and topical subjects that seem to have dominated his movie career. But Love & Other Drugs wanders all over the place, touching down at a variety of entertaining and successful points without delivering on the high hopes the assembled talent engenders.