There may be some truth to Just Friends' nice-guys-finish-last philosophy, but the movie provides us with no nice guys on whom to test the theory. Instead, we get the "new and improved" Chris Brander. Now that he looks like Ryan Reynolds rather than the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, Chris is making up for his awkward teen years by being a grade-A jerk.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the real reason Jamie didn't see Chris as boyfriend material. Best friend or not, he's pathetic. Dressed in a bad wig, ugly sweater and ungainly fat suit, Chris is a "Before" picture in desperate need of an "After." Think John Candy circa Second City. On lonely nights at home, Chris gorges on junk food and lip-synchs I Swear into his bedroom mirror. You wouldn't date him either.

Ten years later, Chris has reinvented himself as a stud so irresistible, even the record label's latest singing starlet (Anna Faris, mixing Drew Barrymore's attitude with Paris Hilton's libido) can hardly refrain from tearing his clothes off any time they're in the same room. It's a problem most guys would be happy to have, and sure enough, Chris' kid brother can think of no better holiday present than to have him show up on their New Jersey doorstep with this minx in tow.

But as far as Chris is concerned, the only conquest that really counts is the one that got away. All this exhausting plot summary makes me realize I'm leaving out one important detail: Just Friends is funnier than you could possibly imagine. Still, it's telling that the movie's biggest laughs have nothing to do with its standard-issue romantic comedy plot (like the antagonistic relationship between Chris and his brother, who insists, "you'll always be fat to me," for instance).

It hardly matters whether Chris and Jamie get together in the end. Reynolds is one of the most gifted young comics working today (who else could possibly wring laughs from a movie like Waiting...), and it's fun just to watch him riff. But Reynolds' routine comes at the expense of the part. No matter what the role, he has a way of flaring his eyes that draws attention away from the character and back to himself. The effect endears us to the actor, but leaves the performance feeling insincere.

We've grown accustomed to a certain degree of sentimentality with movies like this lately (say, Chris Klein's decision to "save it" in American Pie or Shallow Hal's "beauty is on the inside" lesson), but Just Friends operates in the '80s-style, pre-Farrelly brothers tradition. Instead of moralizing between gross-out gags, we get high-concept gimmicks (like the fat suit) and off-the-wall characters (Faris' pop diva is the show-stealing standout).

If you're looking for guidance on the subject of old flames, I suggest you consult Garth Brooks' great "Unanswered Prayers" instead. This is superficial entertainment to say the least. But if you're looking for laughs, then Just Friends is just fine.

[as featured in The Miami Herald]