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Despite boasting the sexy and usually reliable star power of Pierce Brosnan and Julianne Moore, Laws of Attraction follows the Laws of Cringe-Inducing Romantic Comedies: tired setup, zero chemistry, and, in general, absurdity ad nauseam. The setup here involves Audrey Miller (Moore), a ruthless, polished, and—naturally—happily single Manhattan lawyer who believes marriage is for suckers. That is, until she meets her opposing counsel on a big-ticket case, the disheveled and equally ruthless Daniel Rafferty (Brosnan). After a brief pre-deposition encounter in which Audrey wakes up the snoozing Daniel and he then picks off and eats a Snowball crumb that’s stuck to her face, Daniel starts gushing to others that Audrey is “the finest attorney I’ve ever met” and sets out to get her wasted—I mean, to woo her. The screenplay, by Rodney Patrick Vaccaro and Three to Tango writer Aline Brosh McKenna, proceeds to put these allegedly very smart people into very stupid situations (such as ending up in Ireland sans transportation, luggage, or accommodations) and make them do very stupid things (such as Audrey’s going back to Ireland simply to deliver a message to a client). Despite both actors’ easiness on the eyes (though the shaggy Brosnan does look a bit like a poor man’s Richard Gere), their characters are so devoid of personality that they actually seem to contradict the First Law of Attraction—which is that there should actually be some. It’s no secret that, at about midfilm, the two end up getting married one drunken night. At this point, there’s still plenty of badness to come, but it should take just one scene to seal the movie’s fate: When career-driven single woman Audrey is shown dreaming about her newly wedded bliss with a huge “I really did want love!” smile on her face, any decent jury will have no choice but to condemn Laws of Attraction to a long, painful death on Oxygen.—Tricia Olszewski