Drowning Mona

A title card at the beginning of "Drowning Mona" helpfully informs us that the manufacturers of the Yugo automobiles once tested their vehicles in Verplanck, N.Y. "That is another story," it concludes.

Oh, if only this had been that film instead . . . or anything other than this lame ensemble dark comedy, which never really earns any of the sporadic, guilty chuckles it may inspire.

The only way to describe this "who-didn't-do-it?" farce is to call it a "white trash" version of "Murder on the Orient Express" — though it's not nearly as clever as that might sound. Not even close.

Instead, "Drowning Mona" goes for cheaper, easier laughs (which don't come, sorry to say), and it never gives us a reason to care about the characters or the mystery at hand. In fact, if anything, you may find yourself rooting for the lot of them to get whacked.

Not to give too much away, but least one of them does: Mona Dearly (Bette Midler), Verplanck's most abrasive and least-liked resident. Driving a little too quickly around a corner, Mona runs her son's vehicle off the road into a lake — with fatal results.

At first, it appears as that it appears to be an accident. That is, until local lawman, Chief Wyatt Rash (Danny DeVito), discovers the car's brake lines were cut and break fluid was drained.

Unfortunately, he's got a long list of suspects to interview, which includes the woman's son (Marcus Thomas), her abused husband (William Fichtner) and the waitress with whom he's having an affair (Jamie Lee Curtis).

However, as the evidence mounts, Wyatt comes to the inescapable conclusion that it may be his own daughter's wishy-washy fiancee, Bobby Calzone (Casey Affleck), who committed the crime. And what's worse, the girl (Neve Campbell) may have known about it.

First-time screenwriter Peter Steinfeld's plotting isn't quite as simple as that, of course. But it's still fairly predictable, and the script is nowhere near as witty as it seems to think it is.

Of course, director Nick Gomez's odd pacing certainly doesn't help— there are times when the film actually seems to be pausing for laughter or applause.

Neither do the ridiculously cartoony performances. Everyone — with the exception of DeVito, who's surprisingly nondescript — adopts bad New York accents and even worse hairstyles (especially Curtis and Campbell), as if that is enough to make them funny. Bad move, folks.

"Drowning Mona" is rated PG-13 for profanity (including the so-called "R-rated" curse word), violence (gunplay and comic fisticuffs), some crude sexual humor and brief sexual fumblings.