Grade: C

On the basis of this movie, the Fresh Prince might have grown up, but he hasn’t matured much. As a romantic comedy “Hitch” gives Will Smith an adult leading-man role, but his character–Alex Hitchens, a super-secret, super-successful date counselor in the Big Apple–isn’t much different from the same fast-talking, cocky, smoothly ingratiating guy that he played for years on television in his youth. “Hitch” is so old-hat, in fact, that it might have been written for Rock Hudson and Doris Day in 1960 and then placed in a time capsule until being disinterred by Kevin Bisch. With a little imagination you can not only envision Hudson and Day in place of Smith and Eva Mendes, but also see the inevitable Tony Randall or Gig Young in the part of the haplessly lovesick fellow Hitch helps, played here by Kevin James.

Familiarity needn’t breed contempt, of course, and “Hitch” isn’t exactly contemptible. But as directed rather flatly by Andy Tennant–whose previous flicks along like lines (“It Takes Two,” “Fools Rush In,” “Anna and the King,” “Ever After,” “Sweet Home Alabama”) have shown a similar propensity toward flabbiness and overlength–whatever pleasures it provides are modest and sporadic. In the title role Smith clearly has the stuff for this sort of blandly manipulative lady’s man, but the writing is so tepid that he has to coast along pretty much on his charm alone. Most of the energy is provided by James, who–in this case, at least, comes across as a cross between Jackie Gleason and Tom Arnold. As dweeby financial advisor Albert Brennaman, who pines away for his firm’s rich philanthropist client Allegra Cole (Amber Valletta) and hires Hitch to help him get her attention and affection, James switches fairly successful from bumbling doofus to pleasantly average Joe, sometimes within the space of milliseconds. He doesn’t appear to be leading-man material–there’s no evidence of the kind of versatility that John Candy, for example, exhibited–but he makes a good second banana. Unfortunately, the female side lets the team down. Mendes is rather too shrill and brusque as Sara Melas, the gossip columnist who stalks Cole, one of those international beautiful people who are the regular grist for the tabloid mills, and in the process sets her sights on the unlikely Brennaman too. In one of the dumb coincidences that are de rigueur in this sort of fluff (such things happening all the time in a city of twenty million or so), she has of course met Hitch independently of her investigation and sours on their growing relationship when she discovers his part in the Cole-Brennaman business and the sexist nature of his job. That provides the obligatory stumbling-block to their getting together, but it works no better than most such contrivances. Valletta, meanwhile, makes a colorless figure–one of those lonely, insecure rich people who are all soft and needy inside. Nobody in the supporting cast does more much than amble through stereotypical roles: even such recognizable faces as Adam Arkin (as Melas’ editor), Michael Rapaport (as Hitch’s buddy) and Philip Bosco (as Albert’s boss) make very little impression. On the technical side the picture is slick enough, with Jane Musky’s production design and Andrew Dunn’s cinematography keeping things looking spiffy. But George Fenton’s score is as formulaic as the script, and certainly editors Troy Takaki and Tracey Wadmore-Smith could have upped the tempo by exercising their shears a bit more enthusiastically.

“Hitch” is being released at the time of year when the kind of brainless date movie it represents will be in demand, and along those lines it’s certainly preferable to a total flop like “The Wedding Date,” which is trying to appeal to the same audience. It does the familiar adequately, but there’s nothing remarkable about it except how much it will remind you of other, better pictures of its ilk. It’s like a big box of Valentine’s chocolates that turn out to be a mite stale when you bite into them.