Owen, dude, grow up already

Yet another comedy about a man-child who won't grow up, "You, Me and Dupree" has the faintly stale smell of food left overnight on the counter. Owen Wilson plays Dupree, a cheerfully overgrown doofus who lives for cable TV, chicken wings, bar stunts and skateboarding with neighborhood kids who don't seem to notice that their new pal is older than Dad. You've seen this character before, except sometimes he's played by Will Ferrell or Matthew McConaughey or Adam Sandler, and you know how he'll behave in any given circumstance. (For example, you know to expect toilet jokes — and, sure enough, there they are.)

And in the world of Anthony and Joe Russo's film, why would he wish to be any different?

A married pal, Neil (Seth Rogen), is kept on such a tight leash by his unseen wife he's miserable. ("I can't have friends over on weeknights," he says shamefacedly.) And Dupree's best friend, Carl (Matt Dillon), newly married to a sweet teacher named Molly (Kate Hudson), isn't doing much better: struggling to get ahead with his demanding boss/father-in-law (Michael Douglas), fretting about finishing his thank-you notes.

You can see the writing on the wall here, no? Dupree, due to cash-flow problems, soon finds himself sleeping on Carl and Molly's couch and generally wreaking havoc on their marriage. In a very long 108 minutes, things get worked out, and this boy who came to dinner turns out to be — surprise! — an all-around good guy.

With Wilson at the center — the man who's elevated slacker-dude delivery to an art — you'd expect "You, Me and Dupree" to be much funnier than it is. His sleepy shtick, so finely honed in "Zoolander" and "Meet the Parents" a few years back, is getting old, and Michael Le Sieur's screenplay needs some jolts of genuine wit.

In a few moments, Wilson's zonked-out euphoria slips through, as in a scene where he talks to the kids at Molly's school, encouraging them to follow their slacker bliss. "I went to Argentina and everyone seemed to be sitting around. It was beautiful," he enthuses, and it's a funny moment; a few of the kids perk up and stare at him as if he suddenly became an ice-cream man. But otherwise, there's not much point to "You, Me and Dupree."

You'll feel like you've seen it all before, and you probably have.

Moira Macdonald: 206-464-2725 or mmacdonald@seattletimes.com