text: "So there's this bride, you see, and she gets crushed to death by this statue that falls on her on the day of her wedding. Then, get this, a year later, her former fiancé falls in love with a beautiful psychic and then, that beautiful psychic gets haunted by the ghost of the disgruntled dead bride who wants to keep her from stealing her boyfriendhe heit'll be hilarious!." Polite chuckling.<br /><br />This, I like to envision, is how Jeff Lowell, the man who dreamed up "Over Her Dead Body," presented his concept to the studio execs over there at New Line Cinema. The big mystery is how those very same corporate bigwigs could then turn right around and green light the project, allowing Lowell to direct the film as well as write the screenplay.<br /><br />For if you think that no movie could ever possibly be as bad as this original premise sounds, then clearly you have another think coming. The only way in which it might have worked is if the writer had simply gone crazy with it and turned it into a no-holds-barred satirical farce. Instead, wanting to ensure that he delivered a fuzzy, inoffensive and warmhearted romantic comedy, Lowell engages in boring half-measures every step of the way, tamping down the absurdity in favor of drab conventionality. Indeed, "Over Her Dead Body" is so thoroughly inept and unfunny that it's hard to know where exactly Lowell thought he was going with it. Virtually every set-up, joke and sight gag in the film is flat-footed and poorly executed, with even the actors themselves seemingly aware of their predicament. How else to explain the halfhearted, lifeless performances of Paul Rudd, Eva Langoria Parker, Lake Bell and Jason Biggs in their various roles? <br /><br />I choose not to blame the actors, some of whom have proved their talents in better vehicles in the past (that is particularly the case with Rudd). But Lowell and those studio execs sure have some 'splainin' to do.