RATING:

Starring: Jennifer Lopez, Jane Fonda, Michael Vartan, Wanda Sykes, Adam Scott. Written by: Anya Kochoff, Richard LaGravenese. Directed by: Robert Luketic

Rated: PG-13 for sex references and language.

If you liked “Maid in Manhattan,” boy, are you going to love “Monster-in-Law.” And if you liked getting your left arm chopped off, you’ll really enjoy getting your right arm chopped off, too.

Jennifer Lopez stars as Charlie, the blandest woman alive. She’s single. She’s lonely. She’s boring. In the movie’s forgettable opening act, Charlie lounges on the beach with her closest friends, a pack of dogs. (No, this does not refer to Jane Fonda. We’ll get to her later.) She spots a hunky shirtless jogger (Michael Vartan), they make eye contact, and they bump into each other later in the coffee shop. It’s gripping stuff.

Later, Charlie tediously recounts this action to her annoying friends, who include the stereotypical token gay-guy, who later leaves for a “mani and a pedi.” They chat. They laugh. (We don’t.) It’s much like a sitcom on the WB, only those don’t cost ten bucks, and those mercifully end in 30 minutes, not 90.

While catering at a party, Charlie finally introduces herself to the hunky jogger, who turns out to be a successful doctor named Kevin. With the monotony of two actors getting a paycheck, Charlie and Kevin banter and flirt, reminding us that miracles do happen: if this script can get turned into a movie, then there’s hope for all of us, even the least-talented.

Meanwhile, a Barbara-Walters-esque TV personality, Viola Fields (Jane Fonda), learns that her career is over. Notorious for her alcoholism, hot temper, and smothering personality, Viola is a flat-out bitch. The only one who keeps her in check is her loyal assistant, Ruby (Wanda Sykes), who is responsible for 10 of the film’s 12 funny moments. Since her career is over, Viola decides to focus all of her stormy attention to her son, who happens to be (surprise!) the doctor, Kevin.

Director Robert Luketic (who helmed the much more enjoyable “Legally Blonde”) then makes the only good decision in the movie: he surges the plot forward several months, not bothering to show the period where Charlie and Kevin fall in love. Smart. He spares us the obligatory dating-montage, instead cutting to what we want to see: the showdown between J-Lo and Jane Fonda.

Kevin brings Charlie home to meet Viola, the two women seem to hit it off, so he pops the big question. Charlie says yes. You can guess what happens. Viola gets jealous, hates the bride, and dedicates her sorry existence to poisoning the wedding and saving her son from what she considers a mistake.

This should be good comic material. Somewhat derivative of “Meet the Parents,” but still. The nightmare mother-in-law vs. the sweet-natured bride. The problem is, Jane Fonda’s performance is more irritating than funny. Her histrionics, fake-tears, and outbursts have all the comic-joy of a clown slapping you in the face, repeatedly. The first slap is so unexpected maybe it’s kind of funny. But then it’s just painful, you want the clown to stop, and you want your money back.

The humor’s biggest flaw? The jokes are telegraphed. While at lunch, Charlie tells Viola, for almost no reason, that she’s allergic to a certain ingredient. Hmmmmm….. Do we think that might come up again to haunt her? So at the wedding’s rehearsal dinner, when Viola spikes the gravy with said ingredient, we’re not at all surprised, and we’re certainly not laughing. Or take this minor offense: Viola says that at her own wedding, her mother-in-law wore not a white dress, but a black dress . . . [long pause] . . . “in mourning.” Ha.

And poor Jane Fonda. Why? Is promoting her book really that important? After a 15 year hiatus, she comes back to the silver screen . . . for this. Giver her credit: she puts it all on the line, she immerses herself in the bitchy character, and you can tell that she’s honest-to-God trying. But why? It’s as awkward as watching Michael Jordan miss dunks while sucking wind with the Washington Wizards. Ugh.

Agree? Disagree? E-mail me at jeff@latinoreview.com.