Killers

Some found it hard to believe that the fresh-faced Ashton Kutcher, looking far younger than his 27 years, was really walking up the aisle with the former Mrs Bruce Willis. But the incredulity sparked by his nuptuals to Demi Moore is nothing compared to the suspension of disbelief required here to even begin to imagine him as a kick-ass hitman. Given that he doesn't look hard enough to even give someone a vicious lick, the sight of him killing someone borders on the ridiculous. And for those hardy souls who can bring themselves to buy into Ashton as super Spencer, there are plenty of other problems to assassinate their interest.

It's not all bad. Mr K is certainly super to look at and co-star Katherine Heigl is one of the better proponents of rom coms these days, but they're swimming against the tide with this one - and have less chemical fizz than a sherbert Dib-Dab. This is a big problem, since we are supposed to be convinced that, after Spencer's path crosses that of Heigl's Jen in a hotel lift as he is completing his latest government hit in France, that they fall hopelessly for one another.

Such is the bolt from the blue that Spencer ditches his job within the week and, somehow, appears to get away with it. But three years along the line, they are close to Jen's over-protective parents (Tom Selleck and Catherine O'Hara) in an oddly Stepford Wives' style surburbia. The perfect time, then, for everyone in the neighbourhood to decide it's time to kill Spencer, thrusting he and Jen into an attempt at an action film, while simultaneously having the sort of couples-who-are-hitfolk-and-fibbed-about-it-to-loved-ones arguments beloved by Hollywood since Arnie trussed up Jamie Lee Curtis in True Lies.

The end result is huge chunks of exposition and badly woven story coupled with wafer-thin characterisation. Heigl's character - often scantily clad for no good reason - gathers a little spark as the movie progresses but every other female character is annoyingly one-note. O'Hara is defined purely by alcoholism, one neighbour seems to do nothing but shout, while another is cut-out-and-keep nympho. Everything has a thrown-together feel, as the characters are tossed from romcom situations to action set-pieces and back again with no thought to applying any sort of grace notes to ease the transition. Even the plot twist, which might have held some hope for a last-act rally - is slung into the mix with barely a backward glance. Sadly, the 'golly, my hubby's a hitman' flicks aren't improving with age.