New in Town's got me down. The new year is already foisting its challenges on us in staggering array, begetting the hopeful expectation that the arts will serve as a refuge from our worries. That's how it's supposed to work, especially in the comfortably simple world of romantic comedy. Temporary escapism, fantasy, hope--these are the things we expect in exchange for our suspension of disbelief, our agreement not to over-analyze, and the (at least partial) relinquishment of cynicism when we sit willingly through a popcorn flick. That's a deal I'm in the mood to make with a movie. So it's maddening and sad that the vast resources of Hollywood seem incapable of delivering something that they could, and should, be easily doing really well right now.

But timing's a bitch, and instead they've plopped out another pellet-turd vehicle for Renée Zellweger, alongside Harry Connick Jr., who remains likeable in part because he just seems really excited to be on a movie set. It's a fish-out-of-water tale in which Lucy (Zellweger) comes to the tiny Minnesota town of New Ulm to downsize a plant owned by her Miami-based company, and to nobody's surprise falls for the local union rep, Ted (Connick).

New, directed by Jonas Elmer, had a better shot than most at being relevant during a time when layoffs are on the minds of so many Americans, and cinema that celebrates the possibility of corporate success through individual heroism, elevating the good of the common man over the bottom line--all that sounds a mite more intriguing than usual. All the more depressing then that these elements are so childishly pasted together in favor of obvious humor and a romantic dynamic with all the tension and nuance of a porn premise. For something that claims to be new, this stinks of dated decay.