In theaters

PRIME, written and directed by Ben Younger, 105 minutes, rated PG-13.

The new romantic comedy, “Prime,” features neither the prime of Meryl Streep nor the prime of Uma Thurman. So, in spite of its eye-catching title, which promises plenty given the quality of its A-list cast, audiences should forget about hoping to see either actress achieve the prime of, say, a certain Miss Jean Brodie. As good as Streep and Thurman are here, they have been better elsewhere.

The question at hand really is whether the movie is building toward the prime of writer-director Ben Younger, whose 2000 debut film, “Boiler Room,” channeled Oliver Stone’s “Wall Street” in ways that “Prime” channels elements of Norman Jewison’s “Moonstruck” and the mid-to-late career of Woody Allen. That’s a nice way of saying that Younger’s films are more studied than organic, though what’s also true is that they can’t be dismissed.

Like Allen, Younger is a Brooklyn-born New Yorker who uses the city as a character. His technique isn’t as deliberate as Allen’s, his characters aren’t as neurotic and his dialogue isn’t as quotable or as clever. Still, within “Prime” are echoes of the elder director intertwined with a likable vibe that’s Younger’s own.

This is a young man’s movie, with confidence occasionally giving itself over to self-indulgence, weaknesses revealing themselves in the forced situations, a beginning that’s oddly uninformed, as if something went missing in the editing bay. Thing is, Younger is so good with his actors, their performances become the key to this film’s modest success.

In “Prime,” Streep is Lisa Metzger, a Jewish therapist who finds herself saddled with a mother lode of problems thanks to her professional relationship with Rafi (Thurman), a troubled, 37-year-old divorcee pining for a child before her internal clock blows a fuse.

Complications ensue when Rafi meets David (Bryan Greenburg), a 23-year-old artist with whom she takes an immediate liking when they moon over each other outside a movie theater. A few dates later, a rejuvenated Rafi takes to Lisa’s couch, talking intimately about David, with Lisa approving enthusiastically until she starts to connect the dots, realizing that the man so busy satisfying Rafi emotionally and sexually is her own son, a twist freely revealed in the film’s advertising campaign.

For Lisa, conundrums unfold. Ethical dilemmas abound. Should she step out of her professional relationship with Rafi because she might no longer be able to be objective about Rafi’s new beau, or should she just push forward and continue to treat Rafi, sensing the relationship can’t sustain itself because of the age difference?

This dilemma would like to be the heart of the movie, but really it fades next to the comedy of Streep’s discomfort (she acts with her eyes, the downward turn of her mouth) and Thurman’s heartfelt performance as Rafi, a woman facing midlife in a city that celebrates youth and courts anonymity at a time when Rafi would prefer the opposite. As for Greenberg, he’s fine here, but interchangeable, and so not the perfect man for the role. Mirroring Younger, you sense his own prime is a ways away.

Grade: B-

On video and DVD

THE PERFECT MAN, directed by Mark Rosman, written by Gina Wendkos, 100 minutes, rated PG.

“The Perfect Man” is the latest life lesson from Hollywood, and it’s a boon for unhappy teen-age girls seeking companionship for their single mothers. If you’re looking for that perfect man for mom, the best way to find him isn’t through friends, the personals or a computer dating service. According to the movie, it’s through lies and deception.

The film stars Hilary Duff as Holly, a sweet-faced tween with a bum life whose free-living mother Jean (Heather Locklear) is a pastry chef with no center, no filling, no cr?me de la cr?me. No matter how many men she dates – and there have been plenty – she can’t seem to find the right guy. To be kind to Jean, let’s refer to her as a serial dater. To round out her personality, let’s peg her as a frequent traveler.

For instance, when her relationships spoil, as they tend to do, Jean announces to her daughters Holly and Zoe (Aria Wallace) that they’re leaving home for another “adventure,” which in Jean-speak means packing their bags for another state with a fresh crop of men.

Insensitive? You could say that – and I haven’t even gotten to the part where a frustrated Holly takes to the computer to hook her mother up on the sly with Ben (Chris Noth), a decent man who owns a swanky bistro and knows his way around an orchid.

Posing as Ben, Holly writes love letters to her mother, telling her things about romance and relationships that only the perfect man could know. At one point, she includes Ben’s photograph, which causes Jean to swoon. At another point, she sends Jean flowers, all allegedly in the name of love. Throughout, Holly is courted by a classmate, whose affection for her grows as her web of lies deepen. Excuse me, but who are these people?

None of this is played out as seriously as it would be in real life because the movie can’t handle real life or real emotions. If they intervened, Jean would be on a Thorazine drip and Holly would be talking to somebody with a holster about the ramifications of identity theft. That would be the interesting movie this film doesn’t have the guts to be.

Grade: D

Visit www.weekinrewind.com, the new archive of Bangor Daily News film critic Christopher Smith’s reviews, which appear Mondays in Discovering, Fridays in Happening, and Weekends in Television. He may be reached at Christopher@weekinrewind.com