MOVIE REVIEW: ‘Evan Almighty’

When the movie’s "Evan Almighty," however, it can’t be much good either.

This sort-of sequel to "Bruce Almighty" makes that middling 2003 comedy play like "Citizen Kane" — with laughs.

In part, that’s because this lame-brain exercise in strained sanctimony botches both of its goals: to make you laugh and (horrors!) make you think.

That’s a mission: impossible for all but the most assured movies — and "Evan Almighty" definitely doesn’t qualify.

It doesn’t trigger laughs so much as force them down your throat. And its allegedly uplifting Meaning-of-Life message is so ridiculously simplistic it’s downright laughable.

It’s tough to determine which is the greater cinematic sin. But there’s plenty of guilt to go around.

Let’s start with director Tom Shadyac, who’s come a long way (and not exactly in the right direction) since he and Jim Carrey teamed for such crazed comedies as "Ace Ventura: Pet Detective" and "Liar, Liar."

Shadyac’s slapstick sensibilities and Carrey’s unhinged comedic flair were a match made in low-comedy heaven, but Shadyac’s subsequent forays into touchy-feely territory ("Patch Adams," "Dragonfly") proved he was more comfortable snapping rather than plucking the audience’s collective heartstrings.

And while Steve Carell made a supremely smarmy rival for Carrey in "Bruce Almighty," he’s much less interesting as the star of the show.

Indeed, it’s a bit of a shock to see Carell — after the one-two punch of "The 40-Year-Old Virgin" and "Little Miss Sunshine" — reduced to deadpan agony as flocks of birds dive-bomb his crisp business suit.

But it’s not Carell’s fault. Not when Shadyac and screenwriter Steve Oedekerk (working from a story he concocted with Joel Cohen and Alec Sokolow) clog the movie’s comedic engine with so much treacly gunk it’s a wonder things ever get moving. Not that they move very far.

"Evan Almighty" begins with the title character in transition — from TV news anchor in Buffalo, N.Y., to newly elected congressman. (Such a job shift is hardly unprecedented, but it’s doubtful any anchor could continue to cover the news while making it. But never mind — this movie certainly doesn’t.)

Evan’s campaign centers on the slogan "Change the world!" Nothing much has changed in Evan’s world, however.

Sure, he and his family — devoted wife Joan (Lauren Graham, mired in a thankless role) and their three live-wire sons (Johnny Simmons, Graham Phillips, Jimmy Bennett) — have just moved into a spectacularly yupscale new Washington, D.C., suburb dubbed Prestige Crest.

But Evan’s promises of making more time for his family go predictably unkept when he reports to Capitol Hill, where a shrewd congressional veteran, Mr. Long (smilingly bellicose John Goodman) takes him under his expansive wing. Provided he’s willing to co-sponsor a new bill opening national park lands to private development — which Evan would have recognized as an evil plot if he’d ever seen Frank Capra’s 1939 classic "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington." (Such a course of action is highly recommended — especially if it keeps you from wasting your time on "Evan Almighty.")

But Evan’s got an even more powerful presence to deal with than Rep. Long: none other than the Almighty himself (once again played, with beatific command, by Morgan Freeman), who directs Evan to start building an ark. Considering all the animals hanging around, two by two, Evan’s going to need it — especially when God advises him there’s a flood a-comin’.

Throughout, "Evan Almighty" succumbs to an even more extreme version of the push-pull, herky-jerky approach that undercut "Bruce Almighty’s" comic effectiveness.

Where "Bruce" was a minefield of humor, studded with slapstick situations — and philosophical elements forever threatening to blow up in everybody’s face — "Evan" is a spiritual swamp, short on irreverence and long on self-righteous piety.

At times, it’s genuinely painful to watch the movie’s comedy pros — including such accomplished types as Wanda Sykes, John Michael Higgins ("Best in Show") and Jonah Hill ("Knocked Up") as Evan’s congressional staffers — strain to inject lightness and life into material that’s so heavy-handed it makes a lead balloon seem buoyant.

And for every witty sight gag (from the "Ark Building for Dummies" manual God bestows upon Evan to Evan’s who-needs-Rogaine instant hair growth), there are a dozen desperately labored bits that never get off the ground.

That assessment also applies to the movie’s extensive special effects, which range from computer-animated animals to a climactic flood sequence that resembles a high-tech theme park ride — except that most theme park rides are a lot less predictable and a lot more fun.

Throughout, Carell vacillates between unctuous doofus and anxious visionary; not surprisingly, he’s funnier (relatively speaking) as the former. And Freeman retains his on-screen omnipotence — along with the sardonic twinkle in his seen-it-all eyes.

But we’ve also seen it all before. And very little in "Evan Almighty" makes it worth seeing again.