Rarely have I seen a film so resoundingly, innately pathetic as the recent New Line bomb The Astronaut's Wife. Equal parts failed potential and audacious unoriginality, the film managed to violate so many basic rules of storytelling that my initial scorn and boredom was soon transformed into something that can only be described as pity. Pity for the cast, which included a (blond!) Johnny Depp as an astronaut seemingly possessed by the spirit of King of the Hill's Dale Gribble. Pity for his screen wife Charlize Theron, an unproven actress who I have no business liking but whose titular role was so thankless I couldn't help but feel sorry for her anyway. Pity for anyone in the film who had to come in contact with the dreadful Clea DuVall and the equally inept writer/director Rand Ravich. And, in those moments right before my friend kicked me from a near-impromptu nap, pity for otherworldly beings, for, if aliens ever visit our world, this is the kind of movie that would engage them to find a lawyer and promptly sue for defamation of character.

Rightly tagged as a Rosemary's Baby rip-off, it feels more like something the hellspawn himself would have dreamt up as an ungodly torture -- or, were he in a more benevolent mood, an alternative for Sominex. Boring does not begin to describe the tale of Spencer Armacost (Depp), who ventures into space, disappears for two minutes, and returns -- oh yes -- "different". He's colder, quieter, and certainly hornier, as Astronaut's Wife Jillian (Theron) finds out in one of the goofiest sex scenes ever filmed. Theron goes on to be pregnant with his evil alien offspring, a plot point that was obvious from her first Mia Farrow-esque appearance and became more blatant throughout Ravich's continually derivative film. There is not a single original idea in this movie, and there is not a single well-developed character. Clea Duvall's wretched performance in The Faculty convinced me she had nowhere to go but up, but as Jillian's sister Nan she proved me wrong in cringe-inducing ways. Depp gave a mediocre performance in a terrible role, but the real problem with the film is lead actress Charlize Theron -- and it is not really her fault.

Theron had to work in what is probably the worst female role in a genre film this year, and the title of the movie says it all. As the Astronaut's Wife, and only that, Theron has nothing to work with. Take away the depth, intelligence and sociopolitical commentary of Rosemary's Baby and the vapid outline you're left with is The Astronaut's Wife; the same can be said when comparing Rosemary and Jillian. Theron's character is both a cipher and a stereotype, a clothes-hanger running through the motions of a weak and senseless role, a woman defined more by her physical resemblance to a character in an older, superior film than by any thoughts, emotions or actions of her own. And not surprisingly, Theron gave an unsteady performance that was at times equal to the horrid material. Yet for some reason I liked her anyway -- she has the sort of presence and charisma that would thrive in smaller, more offbeat roles where she's more than a walking haircut. Her best moment was in the movie's resoundingly lame ending, when she is freed of her Rosemary trappings and looks the camera straight-on with an honesty not seen in her overall awkward performance. She, like Depp, should choose her roles more carefully -- and director Ravich should be forced to watch his previous monstrosity, Candyman 2: Farewell to the Flesh, once a day for the rest of his life as punishment.

DROOL FACTOR: The normally droolworthy Depp is off his game as a blond -- and the pseudo-hick accent didn't help any.

GROSS-OUT FACTOR: The fact that Rand Ravich is gainfully employed.

STRONG CHICK FACTOR: Absolutely none. Ravich writes women like a man whose entire perspective of the female species came from the worst Lifetime Channel TV-movies he could get his hands on. In terms of exploring subjects like pregnancy he was way off-base, and laughably trite.

-- Sarah Kendzior