In theaters

“Return to Me,” directed by Bonnie Hunt. Written by Bonnie Hunt and Don Lake. Running time: 115 minutes. Rated PG.

Let’s get the premise right out of the away.

In Bonnie Hunt’s “Return to Me,” a near-dead woman with a failing heart receives the healthy heart of her future boyfriend’s newly dead wife. That’s one heck of a stretch, a huge leap in the suspension of disbelief, but the good news here is how well Hunt pulls it all off.

The film, which is so sweet and charming that it recalls the best romantic comedies of the 1950s, easily could have starred Doris Day and Rock Hudson. This is exactly the sort of fare that once turned actors into matinee idols.

Unlike the recent “Here on Earth,” which strained to capture the essence of the 1950s in a 21st-century world, “Return to Me” succeeds effortlessly. It’s like watching a favorite old movie on a rainy Sunday afternoon — you know none of this could ever happen, but who cares? With a cast as strong and as likable as this, the premise works in spite of itself.

The film stars David Duchovny as Bob, a Chicago architect who is devastated when he loses his wife, Elizabeth (Joely Richardson), in a car wreck. A year passes before he meets Grace (Minnie Driver), the very woman who received Elizabeth’s heart in a speedy transplant.

Of course neither Bob nor Grace know that little tidbit when they meet, but the audience certainly does; within 10 minutes, Hunt makes it clear where this film is going. Surprisingly, the film’s predictability never hurts it, and that’s because Hunt chooses to build tension and entertain in other ways. Her focus is on her talented cast, which includes terrific performances from Carroll O’Connor, Robert Loggia, Eddie Jones, William Bronder, Marianne Muellerleile, James Belushi, David Allen Grier and Hunt herself.

What gives “Return” an added lift is the depiction of Grace’s home life, which centers on the Irish-Italian restaurant her family owns. There, in a world that still champions the music of Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra and Vic Damone, the film comes to life in its relationships.

This is, after all and above all, a film about relationships. Some might laugh at its premise, its contrivances, its naivete and its innocence, but those will be the people who thought “Being John Malkovich” was important, high art.

Grade: B+

“Ready to Rumble,” directed by Brian Robbins. Written by Steven Brill. Running time: 100 minutes. Rated PG-13.

Get ready to grumble. If ever there was a movie that deserved a pile driver and a sleeper hold, this is it.

Brian Robbins’ “Ready to Rumble,” a film about the glamorously faux world of professional wrestling, might have a built-in audience of millions, but those millions are about to be disappointed. There’s little here that matches the same level of lunacy fans of the sport see every week on TNT and TBS.

The problem is that “Rumble” is never as fun as pro wrestling itself. It’s just stupid and vulgar for the sake of being stupid and vulgar.

Worse, there’s never the sense that the film is winking at its audience the way “WCW Monday Nitro,” which is the focus here, winks at its audience. As a result, “Rumble” comes off as having missed the point of pro wrestling, which is already a rich satire of itself.

At times the film does have the same cartoonish energy fans expect from the sport — it’s loud, it’s showy, it has all the stunts and grunts. But it also has David Arquette in one of the slack-jawed starring roles — and, unless you like his dim brand of slobbering humor, that’s never a good thing.

Here, along with Scott Caan as Sean, Arquette is Gordie, a modern-day, chest-thumping cave dweller who hauls human waste in a tipsy septic truck. Perfect casting, but in a film that’s clearly smitten with lame raw-sewage jokes, “Ready to Rumble” too often feels like Dumb and Dumber meets Ex-Lax.

The film swirls around Sean and Gordie’s mission. These two want to save the career of their hero, WCW figurehead Jimmy King (Oliver Platt in an absolutely unconvincing performance), a man they ultimately lead back to the ring for a triple-cage death match at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas.

The film does get a boost here with the campy help of some genuine WCW stars, but it all comes too late. In the end, this is one rotten film that should have been smacked down.

Grade: D

Christopher Smith is the Bangor Daily News film critic. His reviews appear Mondays and Thursdays in the NEWS, Tuesdays and Thursdays on WLBZ’s “NEWS CENTER 5:30 Today” and “NEWS CENTER Tonight,” and Saturdays and Sundays on NEWS CENTER’s statewide “Morning Report.”