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"Good news! Opposing counsel's insane."

I really wanted to see The Laws of Attraction, believe it or not; the idea of Julianne Moore starring in something as frothy and frivolous as this promised to be was instinctively appealing. Those who remember Nine Months will know that Moore is no stranger to romantic comedy, but in the past few years the prolific actress has been identified almost exclusively with heavy Oscar-bait like Far From Heaven and The Hours. If this attempt at diversification teaches us anything, it's that things happen for a reason.

It's hard to pinpoint exactly what went wrong, but I didn't believe Moore in this role -- or, indeed, in this movie -- for a second. It's as if she's playing so strongly against type that she's doing it sarcastically. I didn't buy her frazzled dashes down New York City streets, I didn't buy her wisecracks, I didn't buy her fits of righteous outrage, I didn't buy her as a powerful divorce attorney. I knew I wasn't buying when Frances Fisher showed up as Moore's Botoxed-out socialite mother and I believed that ridiculous character more than I believed her daughter.

I am buying Pierce Brosnan as the leading man, though, and director Peter Howitt (Sliding Doors) should be thanking his lucky Irish stars that he was able to nab Bond James Bond's effortless charisma to counteract Moore's forced sputtering. It's true that Brosnan's character -- a suave, blithe, occasionally unscrupulous rival attorney -- has more to do than his love interest and is thus probably more engaging to begin with, but the actor is undeniably instrumental in giving us a reason to keep watching. He has this perfectly harmless demeanor that makes you want to pet him, or ruffle his hair, or something -- that is, until he does something like deliberately humiliate his colleague before an entire divorce lawyer convention.

The script puts these actors through all the motions -- several courtroom montages, complete with shots of Brosnan standing on the desk and jumping up and down; a trip to Britain with the two bitter foes stuck traveling together; a marriage under false pretenses; even a crazy Irishman or two thrown in for good measure. But no one's heart is in it. Brosnan and Moore can't even get sparks to fly when they're yelling at each other, never mind making kissy-faces. There's no tension in their professional rivalry either; they're more like petulant children than high-powered lawyers going at each other's throats.

I suspect that the movie may have gotten away with being this unremarkable had the cast not been fortified with behemoth names. The film isn't entirely without its charms, and with a smaller budget and profile it might have done well in its late-April release date. Alas, the presence of its above-the-title stars sets certain expectations -- not of quality, necessarily, but of an event, something worth waiting for. The Laws of Attraction is anything but an event. There is not a single surprising turn of events to be found here, and a Simpson could count the script's big laughs on one hand.

This is the kind of film where you start worrying about the little things. There's a scene where one character runs out the door to get a newspaper... and another character is standing there, waiting, newspaper in hand. How long was he waiting there? Why didn't he knock? Oh yeah, my bad: it's a convenient movie moment. She rushes out in a frenzy, is startled by him STANDING RIGHT THERE, and we all laugh. Ha ha. That's funny.

See, that kind of stuff never bothers me. I don't know the definition of "plausibility." But The Laws of Attraction is so bland, inoffensive and uninteresting that one has no choice but to occupy himself with marginalia. Boo.