'The Ugly Truth' (R)

As summer romances go, "The Ugly Truth" fits the bill. Perhaps too much. Formulaic in its attempt at romantic comedy, the film's message is that all men are one-dimensional unless they meet a cute, multi-dimensional successful blonde that can make them realize the error of their ways.

Katherine Heigl plays Abby Richter, a Sacramento, Calif., TV producer of a perky morning show who never gets past the first date because she prints out talking points for her would-be companions. She also forfeits info about their parking infractions from background checks she's secured.

Despite her amazingly good looks, she lives alone longing for love. She has only her pussycat to keep her company. Cheap jokes happen at the expense of said cat and anything else that can contain a hint of a double entendre.

One night after a disastrous date, the pussycat steps on the remote and Abby finds herself watching a man-centric TV host burn self-help books and talk about women as pure sex objects. "Women, listen up! Men don't care about your personality. Get some trashy lingerie -- all we care about is looks."

Fed up and appalled, Abby calls in to assail host Mike Chadaway (Gerard Butler) to debate his platform. The call ends up with Chadaway calling her "Lassie," i.e. ugly dog.

Of course, the screenwriters (three women are credited with writing this shallow schlock about dating) have to find a way to put these two together.

As ratings on the cable call-in show rise and Abby's morning show plummets, Chadaway is snapped up by television station management. She is now his producer. As the two progress he decides that maybe her controlling, yet idealistic take on romance and life might contain some truth. She starts to see that maybe there's a sensitive guy beneath all this bravado.

In order to keep the comedy alive, Mike becomes Abby's ad hoc love coach, offering her advice like "You have to be two people, the librarian and the stripper." And being her wardrobe dresser, advising her on push-up bras and hair extensions. Macho, yet metrosexual? That we like.

When there's not much left to get a rise out of the audience, the scriptwriters bring in female Jell-O wrestlers, have the two visually appealing leads dance a sensuous Tango at an all-too perfect Latin dance club/restaurant, then mess up each other's clothes and hair in a "I can't wait to have you" kiss in an elevator. Things get complicated when Abby's perfect orthopedic surgeon boyfriend arrives at the hotel where the crazy elevator kiss has just taken place.

Shock talk about female and male sex organs abound in keeping with this trend of "say anything" comedies started by master of the raunchy romance Judd Apatow, although the humor in this never even comes close.

A particularly odd and uncomfortable exchange arrives early in the film between producer Abby and her uptight male anchor. "You have balls the size of a Volkswagen," she tells him. His retort: "I'd like to think they are properly proportioned." A.) Not funny. B.) Too much information. C.) Can someone say sexual harassment in the workplace?

The ugly truth about this film can be boiled down to a scene in which Abby is caught off guard while wearing vibrating underwear. There's a lot going on down there, but nothing is really happening.