A high-concept low comedy from the Farrelly brothers, Peter and Bobby. The concept, which might from these filmmakers pass for sensitivity, enables the babe-chasing hero (Jack Black, a serviceable Joe Blow) to see the inner beauty of the people around him after he has spent a short time in a stalled elevator with "that TV guru guy," Tony Robbins (as himself). This hocus-pocus, rather than opening any doors to issues of sexual politics, much less any doors to sensitivity, opens a door only to issues of internal logic. Inner beauty, in order not to overcomplicate or redefine the topic, proves to have as narrow a range as the hero's notion of outer beauty. In most cases, it looks exactly like the supermodels, calendar girls, starlets, and mannequins he was chasing at the outset, regardless of whether the outer person more closely resembles a horse or a hippo. (Doesn't anyone's inner beauty have any chinks in it? Doesn't anyone have any inner hideousness?) His sense of touch apparently can't tip him off to the true contours of the outer person ("The brain sees what the heart wants it to feel"), but an article of clothing that appears to him as a Size 4 will be revealed, when removed, in all its tentlike splendor. This doesn't tip him off, either. The hero is sometimes able to see the inner beauty of men as well (GQ types), but prior acquaintances in his life, from his pudgy best bud to the brunette hottie across the hall, look just the same as before. At one point, and only one, it is suggested that the apple of his eye (Gwyneth Paltrow, a snooty sort of beauty) is herself capable of seeing inner beauty without the help of Tony Robbins, although this seems to mean that she has no idea of the actual age of a prune-faced co-worker. Possible complications are explored no further than the doorsill. (2001) — Duncan Shepherd