I had high hopes for this movie. I looked forward to a humorous yet thoughtful consideration of a fascinating question: If you could ease the pain of a breakup by eliminating all memory of the beloved, would you? And if you did, would it be good for you emotionally?

Man, what a disappointment. The first problem was Clementine, one of the most repellent female characters I've ever seen on screen. Narcissistic, hostile, whiny, self-centered, ignorant, humorless, cruel -- who could spend 10 minutes with such a woman, let alone fall in love with her? Yet this movie asks us to believe that two men find her irresistible. Huh?

Then there's the disjointed plotting. I suppose the film is supposed to evoke the dream state. Clearly, though, viewers have a lot of trouble figuring out basic chronology, not to mention how things remain between the lovers at the end. I personally felt as if the director were screaming: "Look at me! Look at me! See how clever and original I am?" Kind of like Clementine, as a matter of fact.

The title is superb, and I enjoyed hearing the bimbo Mary mangle Alexander Pope's name while reciting it. But the movie is thoroughly unworthy of that lovely line.