Killers sees poor Katherine Heigl discover that her new hubby used to be an assassin, in Hollywood's latest attempt to make "the action movie that also appeals to girls" / "the rom-com that also appeals to boys". If only someone would throw the demographic pie-charts out of the window and concentrate on making "the film that is actually good". Killers is admittedly better than two of this year's other attempts at blending action, comedy and romance (Did You Hear About The Morgans, in which Hugh Grant is menaced by a bear, and The Bounty Hunter, in which Jennifer Aniston is menaced by Gerard Butler). At this rate of improvement, we'll be in three-star review territory by, ooh, say 2040.
Heigl's character is a ditzy, insecure but terminally gorgeous gal, recently dumped and on holiday with her parents, when she meets Ashton Kutcher's secret agent, a man desperate to pack in the killings and lead a quiet life. They marry and move to what looks like the set of The Stepford Wives (are there really places in America like this?) and blend in with a community of zealous lawn-mowing enthusiasts. But as it turns out, their whitebread neighbours are mostly sleeper agents set to take down Kutcher for reasons that make marginally less sense than giving Ashton Kutcher a Nobel prize in Physics for his work on the TV series Punk'd.
Not that the nonsensical plot really matters. Killers asks us to buy Kutcher as a top CIA hitman, signalling from the get-go that we are not supposed to be taking this film seriously, and anyway implausibility has never been a stumbling block in screwball comedy. Is the escaped leopard mix-up in Bringing Up Baby remotely likely? Do we really believe that anyone would mistake Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon for women in Some Like It Hot for even a split second? Nope, and we don't care, because the charisma and wit of the actors and scripts carry the day.
Sadly there's not much charisma or wit on display in Killers. It's certainly no worse - faint praise alert - than your average sitcom and as such will make a perfectly acceptable date movie for many cinemagoers, drawn by the promise of action interlaced with romance and possibly by the charms of Kutcher/Heigl. On that note, at various points in the film, Kutcher and Heigl both take their tops off to reveal Ken-and-Barbie bodies so perfect that I strongly suspect this film of being a sophisticated experiment in using synthetic replicant actors instead of humans. If so, a huge round of applause for the outstanding tech department. The alternative scenario - that flesh-and-blood actors were paid money for these performances - seems way too far-fetched.