As nearly as I can figure, Harvey Miramax likes his movies to start out all edgy and unconventional, as long as they turn into feel-good fantasies by the end, and David O. Russell likes raucous ensemble comedies with everybody yelling and shvitzing and running his program. Russell must've loved the idea of a compulsive father and a bipolar son under the same roof, and De Niro's OCD bookie dad more than earns his keep, but son Pat, the film's protagonist, is kind of a misconceived character, and Bradley Cooper struggles to make him seem like more than just a screenwriter's sock puppet.

Bipolar or not, Pat's a mixed-up, messed-up guy who's had to whittle things down to a few basic concepts, which works okay as a survival strategy, but tends to make everything he does and says seem selfish and simple-minded--for reasons too ludicrous to go into, e.g., he has a late-night meltdown when he finds out that Hemingway's "A Farewell to Arms" doesn't have a happy ending. Aussie actress Jackie Cooper is great as Pat's underprotective mother, and Jennifer Lawrence is a powerful presence in the manic pixie (or, if you prefer, the depressive freakazoid) dreamgirl role, though her big scene, which takes place in De Niro's crowded living room, gets ruined by excessive mugging and stagy ad libbing by the supporting cast.

I'm emphasizing the negatives here because this multiple Oscar-nominated movie is really a pretty decent mainstream romantic comedy; it loses some momentum before the big finale, in typical romcom fashion, and really only deals with the subject of mental illness in a very skittish and sitcommy way. I would have liked it a lot better if I hadn't been led to expect something more insightful and original.