When in Rome: Critic Reviews

We get three acts of labored slapstick wrung from an eye-roller of a premise.

It lurches along, making Ms. Bell and Mr. Duhamel look duller than they need to.

This Italian-themed romcom is not quite the most unspeakably-patronising-to-Italy film of all time. That prize belongs to the musical Nine, starring Daniel Day-Lewis. But it runs a very close second.

Though not as ultra-cliched as its title, When in Rome follows the predictable conventions of the genre.

The problem is not the credulity-stretching script. Or even that much of the movie just isn't all that funny. The problem is that it thinks it's freakin' hilarious.

Do as the Romans do. Drive around it.

Duhamel throws around his raffish, real-guy charm, and Bell works a springy cynicism that When in Rome eagerly tries to strip away. But regardless of where its stars want to take it, all roads here lead to blandness and inanity.

Comedies require precision, and there's none here; instead, characters and scenes bash into each other with no evident purpose or logic.

On this simple, sheeplike level, the thoroughly average When in Rome qualifies as almost a complete success, except in its requirement that we go along with some business involving hocus pocus.

The movie lacks invention and true magic in the worst way.

Josh Duhamel plays the smitten sports reporter who helps Kristen Bell mount her big art show, "Pain"-a fitting title, given the agony induced by this godawful comedy.

When in Rome is a rom-bomb.

All in all, Bell and Duhamel (gee, that rhymes!) are not tearing down any barriers, but it's clear that they're having fun and their chemistry is palpable. I wouldn't be opposed to seeing them team up again.

A brainless, fizzy, romantic-comedy fairy tale with a roster of acting talent far beyond expectations.

When in Rome plumbs new depths for ineptitude in acting, directing, writing and every other department.

Bell, a petite, pretty blonde, may or may not have the Meg Ryan-Julia Roberts-Sandra Bullock goods. When in Rome, a leaden variation on that rom-com recipe, fails utterly to make her case.

Bell and Duhamel may have something as a romantic onscreen pair but there's no telling. What's going on around them is both distracting and annoying, thanks to the hyperactivity of the oddball suitors who tend to suck all of the chemistry out of the room.

In the case of When in Rome, oh to do what the Romans used to do: Toss the bloody thing to the lions.

When in Rome may fall flat in places, but at least it hasn't had all the personality manicured out of it.

The saving grace of the otherwise generic product is that Bell's vivacity and Duhamel's rakish charm allow the viewer to root for them, even if sometimes that rooting goes so far as to wish the script would serve the couple better than it does.

A bunch of eager performers troll for laughs that never come.

It's all exceptionally predictable and disappointingly laugh-free, especially since anything with Arnett -- one of the funniest around -- is typically worth the price of admission.

How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways.