There's a handful of classic American comedy demented enough to classify as indigenous dada: the movies of W.C. Fields (particularly "Never Give a Sucker an Even Break"), the stand-up improv of Jonathan Winters, the routines of Bob and Ray and "The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle." Each of them created a place where the squarest Americana was irredeemably looped, and all of them did it with explosive intelligence.

That's another way of saying that if a mainstream movie sets out to satirize contemporary consumer culture, it had better be damned smart. Kenneth Lonergan's script does pretty well with the puns, and he has come up with some good lines for Rocky (blessedly vocalized by the character's original voice, June Foray) and for Bullwinkle (vocalized by Keith Scott) that are right in character. The movie's main gag is that, not having been out of Frostbite Falls since their show was canceled, Rocky and Bullwinkle have no idea how the world has changed. As they keep passing through identical strip-mall towns, Bullwinkle keeps asking if they haven't passed this way already. The trouble is that the audience has been this way at dozens of other forgettable TV-to-big-screen translations.

"The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle," which was directed by Des McAnuff ("Cousin Bette"), has a desperate-to-please cheeriness. Try laughing at jokes about consumer culture making the landscape anonymous when the movie features product placement for the likes of retro diner chain Johnny Rocket's and America Online. And try not to gag when the eager young FBI agent (Piper Perabo) sent to help Moose and Squirrel thanks them for helping her realize that a child's dreams can come true even when you're a grown-up. That's exactly the sort of candied sentimentality Ward sent up: In the cartoon series, Perabo would be a cluelessly cloying thing with blond ringlets and blank, batting eyes.

A number of people turn up in cameos -- among them Billy Crystal, Whoopi Goldberg, John Goodman, Carl Reiner and that perennially underused mad genius, Jonathan Winters. Winters has one great characteristically cracked moment as a wily desert rat selling Rocky and Bullwinkle an airplane. Accepting a wad of cash, he says, "That's gonna buy my stepson another child." But the others end up with nothing to do.

Alexander and Russo do a spiffy job mimicking the voices of Boris and Natasha, but they're both wrong for the parts. Alexander's specialty, complacent schlumpiness, doesn't capture Boris' sleazy cunning the way that Danny DeVito would. And though Russo delivers a few delicious seconds of Natasha's walk -- she's like a klutzy supermodel teetering down a runway in a skirt that allows her only baby steps -- she lacks the right ditzy hauteur. Imagine Anjelica Huston in the part and you've got perfection.

The bright spot is De Niro -- whose company, Tribeca Productions, produced the movie -- as Fearless Leader. With the scar, monocle and prosthetic hook nose, his hair an oily patch of patent leather that stops several inches short of his ears, De Niro uses a stylized physical stiffness and whip-fast delivery to blur the line between human and cartoon. It's a turn, but one that showcases an actor's smarts and skill. His performance suggests the direction the movie might have taken.

The sharpest comment I heard on "The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle" came in the men's room afterward. "It's like spending a million dollars on a gumball," one guy said. Yup -- and not even having the fun of watching it spiral down the chute before you pop it into your gob. There's no sweetness, no crunch.

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