Trailers for Elizabethtown looked intriguing—with chirpy Kirsten Dunst and heartthrob Orlando Bloom getting a chance to lead a standard length romantic comedy through its paces, all under the direction of reliable Cameron Crowe, who has brought enjoyable fare like Jerry Maguire and Almost Famous to the screen. Sorry to bring the sad news that Dunst and Bloom were far more believable in their widely watched comic book and fantasy films. Dunst achieves a measure of chemistry with Spider-Man while Bloom appears far more natural and comfortable when donning Legolas' elfin ears.

Especially ill-suited for his role, Bloom seems to be cast strictly for box office appeal, but this casting coup and promo campaign may save Paramount's collective asses. All you have to say to young women is "Orlando Bloom," and they instantly talk about how "hot" he is. Paramount is banking on the "hunk" factor since Bloom has never carried a romantic comedy before, but not even Cary Grant could have saved this early fall turkey. On its own merit Crowe's saccharine screenplay and dysfunctional direction doom Elizabethtown as one of the year's biggest disappointments. Perhaps Crowe is hoping his fictional story will mirror the colossal flop that his latest project is destined for. That would explain the heavy syrup that he's dumped on the script.

Like Crowe's commercial hit Jerry Maguire, he begins with a protagonist headed toward corporate failure. Somehow we're supposed to believe that Drew Baylor (Bloom) has become suicidal after his sneaker design (to make you feel like you're walking in the clouds) has brought his company staring at potential bankruptcy after a near billion dollar loss. He stares longingly at the ground from a helicopter, and tells his silent co-workers "I'm OK" before timidly meeting CEO Phil (Alec Baldwin again type cast as corporate baddie) for his dressing down session and pink slip. This gives Baldwin a chance to deliver one the film's few memorable lines: "You may cause an entire generation to return to bare feet."

Unfortunately the laughs cease at that point, and the plot plummets to new lowbrow depths that will only appeal to audiences plugged into soap opera melodrama, music videos, or generic television sit-coms with canned laughter. As Drew halfheartedly duct tapes a suicide machine together, his dimwitted sister Heather (Judy Greer) telephones that his father has just died in Elizabethtown, Kentucky, requiring Drew to fly there and make the funeral arrangements. Heather stays behind with their manic mother Hollie (Susan Sarandon) while Drew books a Portland to Louisville red-eye flight that is curiously empty. (Fat chance any of us could ever find a commercial flight with such private service)

That makes it convenient for flight attendant Claire (Dunst) to turn on her kooky, screwball charms to flirt with her solo passenger. She's got the same pop culture sensibilities as Crowe, mysteriously crafting elaborate mix tapes to fit every occasion as she perks up the film's mood. While it's scripted from the start for Bloom and Dunst to eventually hook up, they never do generate much chemistry together. Their best scene comes across as a squeaky clean form of masturbation—separately they clamp their cell phones to their ears to have a heart to heart conversation while Crowe turns the whole scene to a music video with a selection of pop tunes (Ryan Adams, Tom Petty, Nancy Wilson, Elton John, etc.). It's the only time they are jointly animated, but that fizzles as soon as they are face to face whether scripted or not.

Crowe gathers an eclectic mix of Southern eccentrics to the Elizabethtown family household, adding homespun goodness and one-liners that will appeal to Wal-Mart shoppers. It's all designed to make us nostalgic for the pre-Blue Velvet concept of Americana and small town life, but it doesn't resonate. The only scene that infuses energy into the narrative arrives when Susan Sarandon's "California outsider" character demonstrates her loyalty and love for her life partner—totally chewing up the scenery and taking over the film.

Too bad Crowe didn't focus on HER far more interesting character instead of languishing over the vapid Bloom-Dunst love story. Virtually acknowledging that the narrative doesn't work, Crowe even tacks on a superfluous "road picture" that only leads to additional schmaltz. Those extra minutes would work better as deleted scenes for the DVD release.

Movie buffs ignored the trailer and promos that propelled Crowe's weakest film as the box office leader when it first hit theaters. Instead they waited to rent Elizabethtown on DVD since it plays better as a formulaic television sit-com anyway. The really smart people will just avoid watching it ever.