Starring Ashton Kutcher and Katherine Heigl. Rated PG

What? Sorry, just browsing Ashton Kutcher’s tweets and laughing my ass off. Okay, admittedly, that second bit was merely an immature desire to write “laughing my ass off”, or LMAO, to use Net speak. Actually, aplusk—as your (at last count) 5,045,646 Twitter followers know you—your tweets are GR8 and that’s a cute photo you posted of you and mrskutcher riding in a limo to the premiere of your romantic comedy, Killers. Just kind of wishing, aplusk, that watching Killers inspired ROFL (rolling on the floor laughing) instead of, uh, WTWM (wanting to whack myself). BTW, just made that last one up!

Given that Killers takes place mostly in dully shot American suburbia, it’s a dirty trick to begin in Nice, France, mimicking low-rent James Bond. As recently dumped Jen (Katherine Heigl) arrives for vacation with her parents (Tom Selleck and Catherine O’Hara), CIA hit man Spencer (Kutcher) speeds a Porsche along cliffside roads, blows up helicopters, and snaps people’s necks on yachts. He accomplishes much of this and meets cute with Jen while stripped down to swim trunks, í  la 007. Lucky Jen and lucky viewers—director Robert Luketic (Legally Blonde) has such a bent for fetishizing Kutcher’s prettiness that everybody gets generous naked-torso time with Spencer. Sorry, Katherine: only one person of “physical godlike perfection”—as one character says—per movie.

Understandably, with all the aforementioned excitement, everybody forgot all about story and acting. Jen and Spence get hitched and move to the ’burbs, and the big joke is she doesn’t know he’s a former government exterminator until somebody suddenly throws a big knife at somebody. Cue the unthrilling action sequences, unfunny wisecracks, and Heigl’s ungodly shrieking. As for Kutcher, hey, the thespian way isn’t via smirking and constantly looking like you’re about to laugh. Yeah, you’ve got one good line, but even a monkey could mock the 4-H club.