Ever the lover of marital conflict, Hollywood has come out with another comedy about the battle between the spouses. I love You to Death is quirky and fresh, with dark humor and a compelling story that redeem it from its flaws. Director Lawrence Kasdan's jerky pacing is its greatest problem--the film is sluggish in some places and truncated in others. And having such skilled actors--Kevin Kline, William Hurt, Tracey Ullman, River Phoenix, and Joan Plowright--playing types rather than individuals doesn't go as smoothly as it should. Nevertheless, the film circumvents the usual formulaic fluff that passes for comedy these days. Seeing this movie is somewhat like raising a child--when the one-liners start popping out, you realize it was worth it after all.

The screenplay is based on a true story, a fact that seems increasingly incredible as the plot unfolds. Joey Boca (Kline) and his wife Rosalie (Ullman) are happily raising kids and making pizzas in Tacoma, Washington. He loves his family devoutly while pursuing numerous infidelities. She loves his charm blindly, fetching him beer and accepting his need to go out alone at night. When she discovers him kissing another woman in the library, Rosalie decides (after a good cry and a feeble suicide attempt) that murdering him is the next best thing to having him.

Joey turns out to be a tough guy to kill. The rest of the movie portrays the attempts (including beating, shooting, bombing, and poisoning) by Rosalie, her youthful and flaky admirer Devo (Phoenix), her mother Nadja (Plowright), and several paid killers including Harlan and Marlon (Hurt and Reeves). It's not every day you can find such a diverse group working so well together on a cooperative venture.

I would see this movie again just to watch Plowright in action. She upstages them all with her deadpan Yugoslavian one-liners, walking a fine line between being a traditional ethnic mom and a determined amoral killer. When Rosalie tells her mother about Joey's adultery and her desire to see him dead, Nadja wholeheartedly agrees. "He deserves to die--he leaves his dirty towels everywhere," she says. She talks one killer into braining her son-in-law by reminding him of her friendship with his grandmother. When he agrees to the killing, she remarks on how refreshing it is to find someone these days with manners and a sense of duty to family.

Although Kline (The Big Chill, Sophie's Choice) has played more demanding roles than this one, his Joey couldn't be better. He easily slips from doting father and husband to slick pick-up artist, lovable and forgivable in too-tight Italian pants and spit-polished shoes. Sure, there are his infidelities, domestic demands, belching, farting, and unzipped pants. Yet this Joey is so full of raw energy and charm that you have to wince while he's being pummeled by those who love him.

While Kline parodies the Latin lover, Hurt is busy playing the burnt-out druggie. When we first met Hurt and Reeves, they are moving through the slowest game of pool in cinematic history, contemplating the game, no doubt, at the molecular level. Although they are the most overdone characters in the film, their incompetence in such deadly matters is somewhat reassuring. As Hurt says about his character, "If I had to hire someone to kill me, I'd rather it be Harlon and Marlon." We can feel the same about the whole crew--with enemies like this, who needs friends?