Maybe the cinema of the 1980s is too indelibly imprinted on my psyche, but I have a hard time watching Dennis Quaid -- smart-ass, sexy Dennis Quaid, he of The Big Easy and that Bonnie Raitt video -- play a weathered, pot-bellied, cynical misanthrope. It's not that Quaid's incapable of pulling it off, exactly. It's just wrong somehow. And it makes me feel really old.

Smart People is the latest in a long line of books and movies about aging college professors who are intellectually superior but emotionally stunted, getting a second chance at life after meeting a younger woman who serves as both a wake-up call and rejuvenating force. John Updike has fashioned a long career by revisiting this character in a zillion books, as has Phillip Roth -- the recent film Elegy, based on a Roth novella, offers a good illustration of the usual manner in which this material is presented. And while some newcomers to the genre may give it a fresher spin (see Michael Chabon's Wonder Boys), at their foundation they're all pretty much the same story: Morose intellectual worries about tenure/publication/status; everyone in his life yammers at him endlessly about how he's not "really living"; he falls in love, and his heart is opened once more. Given how often this story is retold, I can only assume that it speaks to white, male, middle-aged editors, publishers and studio execs on a profound level, since they keep giving the same tale a green light.

Smart People rehashes this trope as a Sideways-style, faux indie movie. In fact, the DVD cover and the related press materials point out that the picture is from "the producer of Sideways," despite the fact that Sideways producer Michael London is just one of a staggering 15 people with some sort of producer credit on the film. It seems very important that they make this claim, however, so lovers of largely anecdotal comedies about self-absorbed intellectuals might be persuaded to overlook Sarah Jessica Parker's name in the credits.

In this incarnation, Quaid plays Lawrence Wetherhold, an embittered English professor at Carnegie Mellon University. Pretentious, sharp-tongued and egocentric, Wetherhold is as loathed by his colleagues as he is by his students, whose biggest complaint seems to be that he doesn't bother to learn their names (leading one to wonder what sort of touchy-feely types are teaching their other classes, if they expect every instructor in every class to become personally acquainted with them). Whether he's lying to the kid who works the night shift at the campus impound lot in an attempt ton retrieve his car after double parking, alienating the ER doctor that he takes to dinner (Parker) by talking about himself for 45 minutes straight, or applauding the academic achievements of his snarky Young Republican daughter (Ellen Page) while ignoring her emotional needs, Wetherhold's a distinctly unlikeable guy -- which is something of a drawback for the audience, since the entire film hinges on our caring about his fragile grasp on human interaction.

In fact, if he were played by an actor with less natural charisma than Quaid, it's unlikely that we'd give the movie a chance at all. Like Paul Giamatti's character in Sideways, he's an unpleasant person who treats those around him poorly, primarily due to his utter self-absorption, and it's only the actor's charm that gives us a reason to watch him abuse other people. Also as in Sideways, his foil is played by Thomas Haden Church -- here as Wetherhold's adopted brother (and the phrase "adopted brother" is repeated several times so you know that they don't share DNA, although why this is important I have no idea), a perpetual screw-up who's grudgingly allowed to move in so that he can drive Wetherhold around after his license is suspended following an accident.

Director Noam Murro marches all of these "smart people"-- plus Wetherhold's college-age son (Ashton Holmes), a character so insubstantial that he could be excised from the film entirely without anyone noticing -- through the expected paces, with each character written more as an archetype than a full-fledged person. Despite the best efforts of the talented cast, the film never rises above its by-the-numbers inevitability: the grizzled curmudgeon almost sabotages his new relationship but then learns how to act like a decent human being, and he develops a more nuanced relationship with his daughter, and he comes to terms with his brother, and he figures out what he wants from his career. Check, check, and check. By the film's end, when everything wraps up in the exact, tidy fashion that you know that it will, it's difficult to figure out why, exactly, we're supposed to care about these people -- other than the fact that movie so earnestly keeps telling us that we're supposed to.

The DVD and Blu-ray releases from Miramax Home Entertainment offer a nice transfer of the film, which has a deliberately washed-out color palette and slightly grainy quality, with solid Dolby Digital 5.1 Surround (English, with French and Spanish subtitles). Extras include a pleasantly witty commentary track by Murro and screenwriter Mark Poirier, a nice 16-minute "making of" featurette, nine unexceptional deleted scenes, and the obligatory gag reel.

Dawn Taylor isn't as smart as she thinks she is either.

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