Strictly one man show for golden boy McConaughey

Ghosts of Girlfriends Past
Certification: PG-13
Cast: Matthew McConaughey,
Jennifer Garner, Lacey Chabert,
Anne Archer and Michael Douglas
Genre: Comedy/Romance

A SMEAR of petroleum jelly might have done wonders for Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, a junky-looking romantic comedy that's neither remotely romantic nor passably comic.

An old trick used to soften facial lines, greasing a lens or filter can diffuse the image and, much like candlelight, bring a touch of glamour to a scene.

And if ever a movie needed to have its hard lines eased with some cheap glamour, its this one: a crude gloss on Charles Dickens's Christmas Carol, it tracks a high-flying photographer who, on the eve of his brother's marriage, is forced by several ghosts to revisit a life dedicated to sexual catch and release.

Matthew McConaughey, flashing choppers so blindingly white that he could light his own premiere, plays Connor Mead, one of those rom-com roués whose itchy libidos hide the usual sensitive soul.

He's a cad; he breaks up with three women simultaneously during a video conference.

But, really, he's just heartbroken and waiting for the right woman to help him heal.

That would be Jenny Perotti, a childhood friend played by an uncharacteristically hesitant Jennifer Garner, whose performance suggests that she knows that she's strictly backup.

Less a co-star than a place holder, she delivers her indulgent smiles so wanly that her requisite thaw feels more like capitulation than love.

The director Mark Waters, who typically does better by his actresses, proves of no help to Garner or anyone else. (Given his smoother work on Freaky Friday and Mean Girls, its hard not to wonder if this production itself were haunted.)

Whether by contract or default, Girlfriends is strictly a one-man show, a vehicle for McConaughey's diminishing returns.

While there's still a little charm under that permatan, its getting tougher for him to sell the goods on only a smile. He might still be capable of delivering an actual performance again, giving up something other than mannerisms (sauntering walk, crinkling eyes, flashing grin), but he needs a director who can help him get going. Age isn't easy, even for golden boys.

The movie makes much the same point with Uncle Wayne, Connor's lifelong bad influence.

Played by an insistently watchable Michael Douglas, Uncle Wayne is a cautionary tale incarnate: an old-school playboy wrapped in a leathery casing who appears to have been at least partly based on the Hollywood producer Robert Evans.

Although Douglas's face is often obscured with tinted, oversize glasses and a luxurious wave of hair, almost as if he were trying to duck the camera, he brings this ghost to freakish life. The lizard king no longer rocks, but he certainly does slither.

Reviewer's Rating: 2/5

The New York Times