The truth is certainly ugly, at least in the case of the new “romantic comedy” The Ugly Truth. And the truth about this film is that it’s possibly the most terrible out of all the movies of its kind that’s been released in the last nearly seven months of this year. Of Bride Wars, New in Town and My Life in Ruins share credit as arbiters of outdated gender stereotypes, then The Ugly Truth may be trump card that completes the hand. Remember when Katherine Heigl refused Emmy consideration a few years ago because she felt the material she was given wasn’t up to snuff? Well, if this is her idea of good material…

And it’s such subtle work here too. The advertising for this film feature the classic figures for female and male with a heart over the female’s head and another heart over the male’s general crotch area. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! I’m laughing already. If this film were any more obvious there’s be an applause sign in the theatre that lights up every time the audience is supposed to react. And that’s just the trailer, which is just as good as seeing the actually movie because anything in this thing that’s even remotely funny is right in there. However, if, like me, you groaned through those same trailers, I guarantee that you’re not going to be any more impressed with the finished film.

What we have here is a movie that takes two likeable leads and buries them underneath so much bile and derision that it’s hard to justify a case to root for them. If there’s a saving grace it’s that Gerard Butler is able to imbue his chauvinistic shaman Mike Chadway with some measure of charm despite the fact that his cable access turn network commentator has as much insight as an issue of Maxim magazine. Meanwhile, Heigl’s TV producer character, Abby Ritcher, is one of those women so anal-retentive that she does a computer background check for her first date. This leads to a couple of fallacies: the first that someone would be that controlling and the second that some one that looks like Katherine Heigl would have trouble finding a date.

And that’s just one example why The Ugly Truth is less a battle of the sexes and more a tortuous exercise in tedium. Is the smack Chadway’s laying down really so controversial that he’d go from bottom of the barrel TV to network pawn in a matter of weeks? No, turn on the radio and he’s no different than your below average morning zoo crew. And the neurotic Ms. Ritcher is such a mess that it’s more likely she’d be an unsub on Criminal Minds before being a success TV producer. Nothing in this thing feels real, not the set-up, not the characters and certainly not the achingly formulaic conclusion that includes an on air declaration of love in one of those typically movie locations where people who’ve never worked in local television assume happens.

It’s a foregone conclusion how this will all play out in the first place. Unsurprising really given how colourful Mike is and how utterly bland Abby’s supposed dream guy is (played by the impossibly house plant-like Eric Winter). Now sometimes a comedy can overcome ridiculously shallow characters with a funny script and a couple of good gags, which according to the makers of The Ugly Truth involve a protractedly uncomfortable scene where Abby accidentally wears vibrating underwear to dinner. I was embarrassed for Heigl, the filmmakers and the one or two people in the audience that were laughing hysterically. And that’s all I’ve got for The Ugly Truth, about 90 minutes of embarrassment followed by five minutes of head-shaking and a few hours of holding on to the memories just long enough to write this review. See you at the Worst Of… picks.