FILM REVIEW: YOU, ME AND DUPREE

By Jessica Reaves

Chicago Tribune Staff Writer

2-1/2 stars

If Randolph Dupree, in the floppy-locked guise of Owen Wilson, should ever appear at your front door, your immediate response should involve many padlocks, two-by-fours and possibly a change of address. If you do not take these precautions, you will probably find yourself being dragged, kicking and screaming, down a path littered with sophomoric pranks, adolescent behaviors and, in the worst case, a forcible reassessment of your marital status.

Such is the considerable and mysterious power of Dupree, man-child extraordinaire, who, despite an apparent deficiency of redemptive qualities and a serious hyperactive/destructive streak, has managed to convince scores of otherwise reasonable people that he is not only adorable but somehow necessary to their survival.

Molly Thompson (Kate Hudson) and Carl Peterson (Matt Dillon) have just gotten hitched in an idyllic island ceremony, to which Dupree, Carl's theoretical best man, brings his own special brand of chaos (showing up on the wrong island, instigating scene-stealing bar tricks).

A few weeks later, Dupree shows up at chez Peterson, homeless and desperate. Molly is none too pleased, a fact she communicates by whining a lot and making Carl feel terrible for taking in his best friend. Dupree responds to the Petersons' hospitality by sleeping nude on their leather couch and nearly burning the house down (not at the same time). After being forced to choose between his buddy and his new wife, Carl lays down the law, and Dupree is a reformed houseguest. Molly, meanwhile, watches from afar, her face etched with disapproval.

This is a largely thankless role for Hudson, whose carefree hippie-chick sparkle has been relentlessly blunted by Michael Le Sieur's script into a caricature of a wife - not quite harridan, but veering dangerously in that direction. Molly is never part of the fun; she's either scolding the boys or featuring prominently in their sex-related fantasies. (One of these also features Lance Armstrong, who seems to be making a new career out of largely extraneous cameos in the Wilson/Vaughn brand of buddy flick).

Dillon plays the straight man with a degree of sweetness, but his best scenes are later in the film, when Carl has finally reached his limit with Dupree. In fact, the film gets better when it sheds its plodding buddy-comedy skin and adopts pacing reminiscent of a 1940s screwball comedy.

Michael Douglas is on hand as Molly's controlling father, the head of the environmentally unfriendly land development firm where Carl is employed. Whether this signals Douglas' long-anticipated acceptance of age-appropriate roles remains to be seen, but he looks exceptionally comfortable as an unpleasant, egomaniacal patriarch.

Wilson, who doesn't appear to be acting as much as doing shtick, is most likable when he is slightly subdued (as in "The Royal Tenenbaums"). Dupree's occasional soliloquies are high points in the movie, a chance for Wilson to purse his lips and make his "I'm thinking deep thoughts, dude" expression. What's most maddening, perhaps, about Wilson's frenetic screen presence is that he spins nearly out of control, and then suddenly, he does or says something that's so kind, so sweet, so strangely right that you forgive him his terrible behavior. (The same can be said for this movie, which, every once in a while, belies its own mediocrity and provides a belly laugh or two).

The root of Dupree's terrible behavior seems pretty evident, but for whatever reason, the Petersons choose to ignore the glaringly obvious fact that Dupree is deeply and desperately in love with Carl. When Dupree focuses his doe eyes on Carl, or launches another plan to tempt his buddy away from his marital responsibilities, you can almost hear the angelic chorus. Le Sieur, rather than acknowledge the love that dare not speak its name, gives Dupree a love interest named Mandy, who features prominently but whose face, bizarrely enough, we never see.

Such is the fate of women in the new brand of lad comedies: nagging shrews, invisible sluts or boring but stable best friends. It's a setup as old as the male-dominated studio system, and occasionally (as in "Old School") it yields hilarious results. More often, as in "Dupree," the end product feels less funny than formulaic. Not to mention profoundly disheartening.

"You, Me and Dupree"

Directed by Anthony and Joe Russo; screenplay by Michael Le Sieur; photographed by Charles Minksy; edited by Peter B. Ellis and Debra Neil-Fisher; music by Rolfe Kent; production design by Barry Robison; produced by Owen Wilson, Scott Stuber and Mary Parent. A Universal Pictures release; opens Friday, July 14. Running time: 1:49. MPAA rating: PG-13 (sexual content, brief nudity, crude humor, language and a drug reference).

Dupree - Owen Wilson

Molly - Kate Hudson

Carl - Matt Dillon

Mr. Thompson - Michael Douglas