"Orange County"

But no one seems to have a clear idea of what overall shape or tone "Orange County" should take, least of all its director. The problem isn't that a teen comedy needs dumb puke, pee, fag and stoner jokes in order to sell. The genuinely terrific teen comedies of the past few years, "American Pie" chief among them, have included plenty of those jokes, but they've also raised the stakes for how those jokes should be handled and presented.

Context means a lot, and you get the sense that Kasdan understands at least that much: It's an unusual and affecting touch to show us Hanks reasoning with the family housekeeper in Spanish -- he's the only one in the household who speaks the language, or who even cares to communicate with her.

But the barf and urine jokes are simply dumb, and they don't blend into the movie in any organic way -- why do they have to be there? It's as if Kasdan had to work hard -- whether it was his own choice or a directive from the studio, we can't know -- to find places to wedge them in, no matter how awkward the fit.

Kasdan does draw out a loose, easygoing camaraderie among his actors. O'Hara has some marvelous deadpan moments, and Schuyler Fisk, as Hanks' girlfriend, Ashley, radiates youthful earnestness from within. (She also happens to be the daughter of Sissy Spacek; you'll recognize her translucent skin and elfin nose as DNA heirlooms.) Tomlin is terrific in her two small scenes, shifting between nose-crinkling ingratiation and ferociously sour wildcatting.

Black gets a reasonable number of laughs with his wild eyes and bird's nest hair alone, and he's the kind of actor who can turn a perpetual loser into a real character instead of a caricature. Hanks (son of Tom) has an honest, searchingly open face, and he knows how to use it. Or, rather, his great skill lies in what he doesn't do: He knows how to stand back and let the other characters' madness loop and ricochet around him. It's a stealthy way for a young actor to assert his presence, and it works here.

It would be easier to ignore the cracks and flaws of "Orange County" if it didn't wind itself up with a slurpy-smug "It's a Wonderful Life" ending that's completely out of tune with what comes before it. The movie forces us to believe that Hanks' character, in order to succeed at being a writer, has to make a choice between escaping from the familiar territory of home and embracing it wholly -- there's no in-between.

Anyone who's ever written a novel or short story, painted a picure or composed a piece of music probably knows that some of the greatest artistic conflicts and achievements arise from that great in-between. Apparently, that's too subtle a wave for "Orange County" to catch.

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