You can clearly chart the arc of ambitious ascendancy in the careers
of many movie stars, generally based on an examination of their
selection of scripts when they arrive at a place that affords them more
choosiness. But Owen Wilson has, ever since bursting onto the scene in
the 1994 indie Bottle Rocket, followed not so much a path less taken as one artfully obscured by brambles.

Behind Enemy Lines,
which represented an obvious if still earnest and good-natured attempt
at crossing over into another genre — been the quietest of any
consistently steady movie star, probably because his inimitable brand
of comedy comes from a place of cud-chewing informality and
relaxedness. There’s no guile, but neither is there a hard sell. Wilson
just does what he does, and allows you to take it or leave it. Cast
again as an affable, shaggy-haired, loosey-goosey man-child, Wilson is
the marginal saving grace of You, Me and Dupree, a familiarly
plotted, three’s-a-crowd comedy which suffers a slow start and trades
too frequently in broad, garish strokes before rallying with some late
atypical turns.

Directed by Joe and Anthony Russo (Welcome to Collinwood),
the movie opens with the Hawaiian nuptials of Carl Peterson (Matt
Dillon) and his new wife, Molly Thompson (Kate Hudson). Carl works for
Molly’s well-to-do architect father (Michael Douglas), an
overprotective single parent whose passive-aggressive distaste for his
son-in-law (which is to say any son-in-law) eventually tips
wholeheartedly into the latter, leading him to suggest a vasectomy to
Carl. So there’s stress on the work front for Carl, and soon on the
home front as well.

Dupree is Carl’s best friend and best man, and as such Carl offers
to let him stay with he and Molly when Dupree gets bounced from his job
and apartment in the same day. Dupree promptly sets about violating
boundaries both tangible (he orders cable TV, changes the answering
machine message and bursts into their bedroom without knocking as
they’re about to have sex) and more ambiguous (“You’re newlyweds,”
intones Dupree in Wilson’s friendly drawl, “and a big part of that is
making love. You’re gonna explore each other — I get that”). Things
culminate with Dupree accidentally burning down the living room, the
result of an overly candlelit romantic encounter with a Mormon
co-worker Molly attempts to set him up with. As the parallel frictions
of work and a chastised Dupree — who the couple bounce but later take
back in — drive Carl to distraction and create real conflict between he
and Molly, it’s the unlikely Dupree who rides to the rescue of the
relationship.

You, Me and Dupree is actually three movies mashed somewhat
clumsily into one. The first third to half of the film is actually the
most familiar and least interesting — the story of Dupree the loveable
screw-up, and his transmutation into the houseguest from hell. While
Wilson’s skill with an offbeat line reading provides a few fleeting
moments of bemused charm, what doesn’t wash here is the alternating
obliviousness, sensitive-guy charm and wide-eyed raconteur spirit of
the character.

The second (and most interesting) portion of the film involves Molly
bonding with Dupree after getting to know him in ways that Carl has
never bothered to; the pair cook a meal together for Carl and, in a
somewhat clever twist upon expected gender roles, dish about the
uncommunicativeness of the man they share in their lives. It’s only
here, in fitful bits, that You, Me and Dupree feels really
fresh and new. The final act of the movie dissolves into an obstacle
course of steeplechase silliness, set off by Carl — painted into a
psychological corner by Mr. Thompson’s mental abuse and Molly’s new
closeness with Dupree — finally boiling over and leaping across the
dinner table at his best friend. Naturally, this alienates Molly,
laying the groundwork for an implausible and wholly contrived, but
still emotionally successful grand-gesture finalé in which Carl, with
an assist from Dupree, stands up to his father-in-law and tries to win
back his wife.

Debut screenwriter Mike LeSieur’s screenplay is a fairly
unconvincing, cobbled together mixture of winkingly broad elements
(it’s the type of movie in which Dupree arrives at Carl and Molly’s
house with a moose head and mandolin, just because) and familiar set
pieces, but just when you’re ready to write it off, along comes a
weirdly pleasant scene like Dupree sincerely guest-speaking at an
elementary school career day, attempting in somewhat plaintive fashion
to reach the kids who might not know what they want to do in life.
While Dillon is a serviceable actor, he mostly goes over like a lead
balloon here; Hudson, meanwhile, crinkles her nose in too-cute fashion,
and shows off an impressive post-pregnancy figure in another scene, a
fantasy sequence. Mostly, though, it’s again Wilson’s show… though he
surely wouldn’t have you believe it. (Universal, PG-13, 105 mins.)