MOTHER’S DAY PICK

Ghosts of Girlfriends Past

There are some things in cinema simply worthless to question. Such as why director Mark Waters would take Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol,” pop out Ebenezer Scrooge and replace him with a modern man-about-town, call it something banal and alliterative like “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past,” and send it to theaters in May.

Or why such a production would be so hotly marketed as a Matthew McConaughey vehicle, when its other leading star, Jennifer Garner, gives viewers the more genuine source of delight.

No, squinting too closely at “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past” will only make obvious its many flaws: static writing, stale performances and not nearly enough shirtless screen time by McConaughey to be worth the ticket price for many.

But what it lacks – and I mean really, nearly irredeemably lacks – is perhaps mitigated only by present company. In a year that’s brought us “Bride Wars” and “Confessions of a Shopaholic,” this sure-fire supernatural rom-com delivers wit and cleverness to the celluloid simply by comparison.

“Ghosts of Girlfriends Past” is king of the losers’ bracket, but if you’re taking Mom to the movies this weekend, it’s the one to watch.

McConaughey is Connor Mead, a hot shot photographer who struts into already-set-up photo shoots, straddles up behind the camera, clicks off a few frames and calls for martinis. He vulgarly keeps one eye open for models with daddy issues and is so adored, he breaks up with women in bulk via conference call.

“You really are just as bad as they say,” one says to him.

“No,” he replies, “actually a little bit worse.”

When Connor drops by his brother’s Newport nuptials, he waxes ardent on the abolishment of marriage and the uselessness of monogamy. (McConaughey carries his inexplicable southern twang in this film, which he never seems to drop, even when a character is East Coast-bred.)

Then he runs into childhood sweetheart Jenny (Garner), who’s sharp and a little salty, and, unlike the rest of the one-dimensional females in this movie, doesn’t swoon weak in the knees when he’s near — at least not when she knows he’s watching.

To save Connor from a life of meaningless debauchery, the ghost of Connor’s lothario Uncle Wayne (Michael Douglas) sends three apparitions to tour Connor through his past, present and future loves.

Lacey Chabert, playing the bride-to-be, gives a handy comedic performance (her delivery of “I am a lady, I am a professional!” after the wedding cake meets disaster is gold) and proves a good pairing with Garner’s likability.

But from its very first moments “Ghost of Girlfriends Past” veers a hard right into cardboard cutout Chick Flickland, and you can bet the rent on the ending.

God bless us everyone, and let’s hope the latter half of 2009 produces better romantic movie magic than the first.

ANYDAY PICK

X-Men Origins: Wolverine

You read it anywhere you look: Hugh Jackman is the nicest guy in Hollywood, they say. So nice, it’s easy to root for his movies. That’s fortunate for Jackman, since “X-Men Origins: Wolverine,” the latest in the X-Men franchise, is only worth your while if you really want it to be.

Go to the theater to see favorite heroes before they were heroes, and you’ll find a decent prequel to a beloved trilogy.

Head there for some fresh entertainment, and you’ll walk away unimpressed.

The film begins in 1845 with a young Logan (Jackman) and his mutant brother Victor (the perfectly, eerily chameleonic Liev Schreiber). Spectacular opening credits roll the various wars in which they fight as they learn of their powers and grow into men. When a firing squad tries and fails to execute them, the brothers are recruited for a special mutant strike team by an ill-motivated William Stryker (Danny Huston).

But after a clash in values with Stryker, Logan turns to small-town lumberjack life. Victor, his ugly sabertooth fingernails a glowing, murky yellow, shows up and kills Logan’s girlfriend, propelling the brooding Logan into a deal to become Stryker’s indestructible “Weapon X.” His skeleton and protruding claws are coated with adamantium in the name of vengeance, but soon Logan must slash himself out of harm’s way when he learns he’s being jilted.

The film culminates in a showdown on Three Mile Island, where Stryker creates a new man-weapon using stolen powers from imprisoned mutants — some of which fans who watch closely will recognize.

Without his band of fellow X-Men, however, man-of-few-words Logan has little to do but stand shirtless and snarling. It all feels a bit empty, with little arch for Jackman to play and even less texture, unlike the charm his character has had opposite Anna Paquin’s Rogue in previous productions.

There’s nothing particularly wrong with “X-Men Origins: Wolverine,” though its effects and stunts certainly took top priority over the writing of the back story and it pales in comparison to similar hero action movies, especially “The Dark Knight.”

What’s missing is the spark from those films in the franchise that came before it.

Jackman’s wide-grinning nicety may help carry “X-Men Origins: Wolverine” to a better-than-decent reception, but it shouldn’t have had to.