Julia Roberts and Brad Pitt in The Mexican

If you must know, the story revolves around what happens when Jerry Welbach (Pitt), a likeable but lame-brained small-time criminal, has to go to Mexico and retrieve an allegedly haunted antique pistol nicknamed (you guessed it) "The Mexican" as a favor for mobster Arnold Margolese (Gene Hackman). This mission will finally square things between Welbach and Margolese, who Jerry accidentally sent to jail several years earlier when he crashed his car into Arnold's, while the boss was unfortunately transporting a body in the trunk. The mishap attracted the attention of the authorities but, lucky for Margolese, the body he was carrying was still alive, albeit hog-tied and duct-taped, and the gangster was sentenced minimally.

While in the slammer, Margolese's cellmate tells him of the legend of the Mexican, and it is gradually revealed in flashbacks how the gun was painstakingly crafted by a master gunsmith a century ago as a present to the soldier son of a local nobleman. The gunsmith hoped the young nobleman would in turn recognize the beauty of another creation, the gunsmith's daughter, whom he hoped would marry the military man, bringing the family great honor and maybe a lucrative contract supplying guns to the local army. Actually, I just threw the supply-contract part in there, but it makes as much sense as anything else in the movie. Of course, the gunsmith's poor but honorable assistant is the hombre the daughter truly loves and a triple tragedy ensues on one of the most ill-fated wedding days since "Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire."

The pistol is lost to legend, but Margolese vows to his dying cellmate that he will find it and return it to its rightful owners, his cellmate's family, whose great-great-grandfather was the original gunsmith of the story. Phew, and you thought Crouching Tiger was hard to follow. Well, at least The Mexican isn't in Chinese, though it probably would be much funnier if it were.

It isn't until nearly the end, that the true nature of Welbach's quest for the Mexican is made clear. Though a gun is the movie's official illusive object of desire, a bomb would have been more appropriate, or at least as prophetic since this movie is bound to drop faster than a taffeta gown at three a.m. on prom night.

The one standout in the whole standoff is James Gandolfini of "The Sopranos" as Leroy, a gay hit-man who kidnaps Welbach's girlfriend Samantha (Julia) as ransom for the safe return of the Mexican. Halfway through the movie, Leroy ends up falling for Samantha's endless spew of pseudo sensitive psychobabble and lets her so far into his head that he gets soft at the wrong moment and makes the fatal mistake of not whacking Welbach when he should. Gandolfini's character is as believable as always, whether he's blowing away another contract killer in the heat of vengeance or dancing joyously around a hotel room to Men Without Hats' "Safety Dance" with a gay postal worker he and Samantha picked up along the way to Las Vegas. I can't imagine how Gandolfini is going to face his Sopranos pals after they get a look at him here. And I'm not referring to the gay character, but the script.

Why Pitt, coming off a knockout performance in Fight Club, and Julia Roberts, after truly Oscar worthy work in Erin Brokovich, would want to get involved in this mishmash of pop psychology, slapstick comedy and cold-blooded brutality is a mystery. Had The Mexican taken on one flavor instead of trying to mix all three it might have had a chance. Instead, it careens wildly for over two hours and eventually, though not nearly soon enough, ends in a creative Mexican standoff where no one wins, least of all, the audience.