In Theaters

EXIT WOUNDS. 100 minutes, R, directed by Andrzej Bartkowiak, written by Ed Horowitz and Richard D’Ovidio, based on the novel by John Westermann.

“Exit Wounds” is just the sort of pumped-up fare one expects from Steven Seagal, the late-’80s action hero who made a name for himself as the second-rate Schwarzenegger, the third-rate Stallone and the fourth-rate Chuck Norris in such films as “Under Siege,” “Marked for Death,” “Above the Law,” “Hard to Kill” and “On Deadly Ground.”

As those titles suggest, Seagal has always been willing to put himself at the wrong end of a gun, a character trait that’s one of the main reasons “Wounds” earned $19 million at the box office last weekend. But now, in spite of securing a No. 1 opening, Seagal may have not gone far enough in his effort to stage a comeback. Indeed, after an initial box-office roar, word-of-mouth will likely blow holes all through this film.

The main problem with “Wounds” is Seagal. Bloated from too much food and too few trips to the gym, he never looks ready for the action the film promises. Instead, at 49, he looks doughy, sluggish and tired, a plump man whose heavy thighs are probably no stranger to chaffing or split seams.

There are moments when the old Seagal does shine through, particularly when he single-handedly takes on a helicopter, but the movie, as directed by Andrzej Bartkowiak (“Romeo Must Die”) from a script by Ed Horowitz and Richard D’Ovidio, ultimately asks more from the actor than he’s physically able to deliver.

The film features Seagal as Orin Boyd, a “lone wolf” detective from Detroit who’s pretty much just another version of the same character Seagal has been playing for years. Boyd is a renegade, an outsider, a cool, squinty-eyed cop who loves to infuriate his superiors by not following the rules.

After saving the vice president of the United States from a shootout on Detroit’s Bell Isle Bridge, Boyd isn’t given thanks. Instead, he’s criticized for his actions, demoted for his “reckless behavior,” and sent downtown to the unsavory 15th Precinct. There, as a traffic cop, he must suffer the humiliation of anger management classes designed to keep his rage in check.

But things aren’t quite what they seem at the precinct (are things ever what they seem at the precinct?). Soon, Boyd becomes aware that some of his beefy new colleagues are dirty cops trying to push millions in heroin to Latrell Walker (rap star DMX), a smooth operator who eventually joins the rest of the cast in revealing that he also might not be what he seems.

With Tom Arnold and Anthony Anderson hauled in for comedic relief, “Exit Wounds” has the stink of old ideas and action clich?s all over it. There’s nothing fresh here, nothing that sets the film apart from anything else Seagal has done.

Unlike Stallone’s comeback in “Get Carter” and Schwarzenegger’s return in “The 6th Day” and “End of Days,” Seagal isn’t responsible for sparking the action scenes with their modest energy; when he fights, he barely moves. Instead, the energy comes from Bartkowiak’s rapid jump cuts and his swiftly moving camera, a cheat that won’t fool anyone.

In the end, it’s the film’s advertising slug that says it best. Scrawled beneath the film’s title in its print ads and on its Web site is the staunch warning, “This is gonna hurt.” Truth in advertising doesn’t get any better than that.

Grade: D

On Video and DVD

CHARLIE’S ANGELS. 92 minutes, PG-13, directed by McG, written by Ryan Rowe, Ed Solomon and John August.

Take all the saucy, slow-motion bounce of a Clairol hair commercial, cross it with the pumped-up cleavage of a Victoria’s Secret runway show and then jack the action with the kick-butt moves of “The Matrix” (or any film by Jackie Chan or Bruce Lee) – and you essentially have “Charlie’s Angels,” a film that takes girl power to such dizzying heights and crazed extremes, teen-age boys might find themselves fainting in the aisles midway through.

The film offers nothing – and everything. It’s slim, but it’s phat. Just as in John Woo’s “Mission: Impossible 2,” it backs its ridiculous plot with the joy of its way-over-the-top action, its hugely likable cast, and its dozens of references to famous scenes in other movies, especially “Vertigo,” “North by Northwest,” “Stalag 17,” “The Matrix,” and the Austin Powers and James Bond series.

This is escapism tossed into the spotlight, a film so undeniably weightless and slight, it could melt in your hand. But what a lot of fun.

What makes “Charlie’s Angels” work is that it strikes just the right absurdist tone in capturing one of the more absurd television shows of the mid-1970s and early 1980s.

The film, as directed by McG from a script by 17 writers (only three of whom were credited), is a postmodern parody of pop culture. That makes it sound deeper than it is, but since “Charlie’s Angels” is essentially extremism for the sake of extremism, it’s nevertheless the case.

The film plays with what action movies have become – overblown battles of superstar egos and directorial one-upmanship. But in all its feathery fun, it goes several steps further. It manages to lampoon the television show on which it’s based, while also lampooning the feminist movement.

The women in “Charlie’s Angels” – nicely played by Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore and Lucy Liu -have a 21st century sensibility. They don’t behave as if they have something to prove. Instead, they’re a result of the generation that did most of the proving. They love their clothes, their makeup, their hair and their men every bit as much as they love delivering a drop-kick to a jaw or a sucker punch to someone’s throat. I’m not sure whether Gloria Steinem would approve, but I’m certain Camille Paglia would.

With Bill Murray as Bosley, Sam Rockwell as a kidnapped software mogul, Tim Curry as an evil millionaire and John Forsythe as the voice of Charlie, “Charlie’s Angels” probably didn’t intend to be a study in pop culture’s influence on post-feminism. But when a leather-clad Drew Barrymore – with her hands tied behind a chair – lifts and spreads her legs in a V to stop the group of men determined to kill her character, that’s exactly what this film suggests – especially when Barrymore leaps to her feet and tackles them all in spite of her perceived limitations.

Grade: B+

Christopher Smith is the Bangor Daily News film critic. His reviews appear Mondays in Style, Thursdays in the scene, Tuesdays on “NEWS CENTER at 5” and Thursdays on “NEWS CENTER at 5:30” on WLBZ-2 and WCSH-6.

THE VIDEO CORNER

Renting a video? NEWS film critic Christopher Smith can help. Below are his grades of recent releases in video stores.

Charlie’s Angels ?B+

The Legend of Drunken

Master ? B+

Lucky Number ? D-

Remember the Titans ? D

Almost Famous ? A

The Crew ? D

The 6th Day ? C+

The Tao of Steve ? B+

Meet the Parents ? B+

Wonder Boys ? A

Bedazzled ? B-

Lost Souls ? F

Nurse Betty ? C+

Beautiful ? D

Book of Shadows:

Blair Witch II ? F

The Original Kings

of Comedy ? B+

The Watcher ? F

The Adventures of

Rocky and Bullwinkle ? D

Bless the Child ? D

Bring it On ? B+

Get Carter ? D-

Woman on Top ? B+

Urban Legends:

Final Cut ? D-

Whipped ? F-

Cecil B. Demented ? C

Dinosaur ? B

Dr. T and the Women ? D

The Eyes of Tammy

Faye ? B+

Jesus’ Son ? A-

Solomon and Gaenor ? B+

What Lies Beneath ? B

Bait ? F

Battlefield Earth ? F-

Coyote Ugly ? C-

Disney’s The Kid ? B+

Me, Myself & Irene ? C+

Autumn in New York ? F

Hollow Man ? C-

The Art of War ? F

The Exorcist: The Version

You’ve Never Seen ? A

Godzilla 2000 ? B+

The Cell ? B

Road Trip ? D-

Saving Grace ? A-

Where the Money Is ? C+

The Virgin Suicides ? B+

Loser ? C-

The Road to El Dorado ? B-

Shower ? B+