Roger Ebert once described the perfect date movie as one that provokes the couple to talk to each other. And I’d have to agree with him. Bart Freundlich’s Trust the Man follows the more popular, unfortunate definition: A compromise for the ladies and the fellas that pleases no one, and usually sucks your will to live.

Oh, Trust the Man is meant to be high-end, intelligent enjoyment. It stars art house denizens Julianne Moore (Freundlich’s wife) and Billy Crudup (Jesus’ Son) and features more upscale NYC locales than season 5 of Seinfeld. It’s really a shallow, aimless affair that will lead to conversations I’m sure Ebert never imagined.

“Jesus Christ, why did you take me to this?”

“You like Julianne Moore!”

“When she’s naked!”

“I hate you! I’ll be in the car!”

The plot of Trust the Man follows two New York City couples grappling with issues. Tom (Duchovny) and Rebecca are married with kids, heading toward middle-age and a crisis. Between her busy life as a successful actress and his life as a “househusband,” their sex life is stagnant, which is a major concern for the always horny Tom. Tobey (Crudup) and Elaine (Maggie Gyllenhaal) have been dating for seven years, but his immaturity and reluctance to marry is vexing to the mommy-minded, level-headed Elaine.

From these characters we get endless scenes of relationship blather that never answer the most important question: How did these couples find such misery? When numerous scenes of female and male bonding aren’t unfolding, Freundlich ups the laugh factor, a disastrous decision. These scenes don’t happen in the flow of the main plot, so every time one pops up it’s distracting, never mind a bit desperate: Why address the problems of the romantically anguished when you can have a carb-craving Moore choke on a piece of cake or Duchovny punched in the balls not once, but twice? Even worse, few of these scenes are funny.

Of course, Freundlich’s script is a mess. He doesn’t succeed at either comedy or drama–his comedic observations are tired and broad; he lacks the attention to detail of a good dramatist–and he certainly can’t blend the two elements. Profiling two couples would be OK if there was a significant contrast, but not if they’re both vaguely unhappy. The movie’s large number of scenes shows a lack of conviction to the story and his characters. And he relies on New York locales as if the spell of Woody Allen will be cast, and shots of Sardi’s or Lincoln Center will make a shoddy plot authentic and poorly sketched characters brim with eloquent ennui.

The talented leads can’t do much here. You feel that they’re not acting as much as trying to find a grip on the material. Putting Moore, Duchovny, Gyllenhaal, and Crudup in this movie, is like putting Tiger Woods and Vijay Singh in a miniature golf tournament. It’s a waste of their time and those in attendance.

GRADE: **

MPAA RATING: R