In theaters

HOLLYWOOD HOMICIDE, directed by Ron Shelton, written by Robert Souza and Shelton, 111 minutes, rated PG-13.

In “Hollywood Suicide” – excuse me, “Hollywood Homicide” – Harrison Ford and Josh Hartnett star in a laugh-free, buddy-cop comedy that forgot to bring the comedy. It did, however, remember to bring a loaded gun, which it presses against its weak celluloid heart and fires until the entire show is plugged with blanks.

As directed by Ron Shelton (“Bull Durham,” “Dark Blue”) from a script he wrote with Robert Souza, the film is a major Hollywood misfire, a movie so unbearably dull, miscast, generic and awful, it makes tracing patterns in a carpet seem like a better way to spend the time.

In the film, the usually reliable Ford gives one of the least-convincing performances of his career as Joe Gavilan, a nearly broke, veteran LAPD detective who moonlights as a real estate agent, hustling multimillion-dollar houses on the side (or at least he tries to) while solving the occasional murder along the way.

It’s a depressing life, one compounded by Joe’s string of divorces and the idea that his partner is a foppish twink named K.C. Calden (Hartnett), an up-and-coming detective whose own side job involves teaching yoga to dozens of horny co-eds while somehow finding time to train as an actor.

When four rap stars are gunned down in the film’s opening moments, Gavalin and Calden are put on the case – not that there’s much of one, at least for audiences, who know from the start who did the murders. And so, with that knowledge robbing the film of whatever mystery it might have had, the focus shifts to Ford and Hartnett to come up with the comic goods to keep us entertained.

That they don’t is an understatement. Without a shred of chemistry between them – they look as if they’d rather be acting opposite a prison mime than each other – “Hollywood Homicide” quickly cuts its own throat and counts itself as its foremost casualty.

A major problem is the characters. Ford’s Gavalin is such an uptight, humorless malcontent, so grouchy and shopworn, you just want to shut the shop down. Hartnett’s Calden doesn’t fare any better, mainly because Hartnett proves once again that he can’t act. He’s just a squinting set piece with trendy hair, a wan model without a clue. His particular brand of stilted dimness would be better served in an Abercrombie & Fitch ad than in the movies.

With its endless series of cameos from such throwback artists as Smokey Robinson, Gladys Knight, Dwight Yoakam and Lou Diamond Phillips, none of whom offer anything but forced interruption, “Hollywood Homicide” is the sort of Hollywood bust that’s so instantly forgettable, it should have had the book thrown at it from the start.

Grade: D-

On video and DVD

OLD SCHOOL, directed by Todd Phillips, written by Phillips and Scot Armstrong, 91 minutes, rated R.

“Old School” comes from the folks who gave us “Road Trip,” and, in turn, Tom Green in his first film role – the one in which he tickled a live mouse with his tongue before popping it in his mouth as if it were some sort of Dickensian hors d’oeuvre.

For most, that will be the end of this review, as they will immediately know whether “Old School” is for them. So, see you on Monday.

However, for those who are still on the fence about whether to rent it, “Old School” is, in fact, old hat, the sort of film that’s never as nostalgic as its title suggests. As directed by Todd Phillips from the script he wrote with Scot Armstrong, the movie was apparently written under the influence of Ephedra – it’s thin and occasionally toxic, creating a sort of cinematic wasting that amounts to nothing on screen.

It stars Luke Wilson, Vince Vaughn and Will Ferrell as a group of 30-something men trying to recapture their prime by starting the sort of fraternity that stages KY Jelly wrestling matches between 80-year-old men and young, nubile co-eds who prefer to perform in the nude.

Only two jokes get a laugh – the one in which Ferrell takes a tranquilizer dart to the throat, which is funny, and the one in which several young men gather on a rooftop, tie cement blocks to their unmentionables and hope for the best as those blocks are hurled into the air in an alarming show of faith.

Not surprisingly, castration is a theme that runs throughout the film, particularly since all of these men – Wilson’s Mitch, Vaughn’s Beanie and Ferrell’s Frank – are feeling a bit neutered in their relationships. It’s the hard living they feel they must do to overcome their irrational fears about spending the rest of their lives with one woman that allegedly gives “Old School” its frat-boy kick.

You know, straight to the head.

Grade: D-

Christopher Smith is the Bangor Daily News film critic. His reviews appear Mondays and Fridays in Style, Thursdays on WLBZ 2 and WCSH 6, and are archived on RottenTomatoes.com. He can be reached at BDNFilm1@aol.com.

The Video-DVD Corner

Renting a video or a DVD? NEWS film critic Christopher Smith can help. Below are his grades of recent releases in video stores. Those in bold print are new to video stores this week.

About Schmidt ? A

Adaptation ? A

Analyze That ? C-

Antwone Fisher ? A-

Biker Boyz ? D

Catch Me if You Can ? A-

Comedian ? B+

Die Another Day ? C+

Drumline ? B+

8 Mile ? C

The Emperor’s Club ? C+

Femme Fatale ? C+

Frida ? B+

A Guy Thing ? D

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets ? B+

The Hot Chick ? C-

Igby Goes Down ? A

Just Married ? C-

Lilo & Stitch ? B+

Minority Report ? A-

NARC ? A-

National Security ? C-

Old School ? D-

One Hour Photo ? A-

The Pianist ? A+

Rabbit Proof Fence ? A-

Real Women Have Curves ? A-

The Recruit ? B

Red Dragon ? B+

Spirited Away ? A

Standing in the Shadows of Motown ? B+

Star Trek: Nemesis ? B-

Talk to Her ? A-

Tears of the Sun ? C-

Treasure Island ? B-

The 25th Hour ? A

Two Weeks Notice ? C-

White Oleander ? B+