There’s something genuinely interesting about Pride and Prejudice and Zombies when it first gets going. As a relative newbie to both Seth Grahame-Smith’s book the film is based on and the Jane Austen book that book is based on (forgive my ignorance, I beg you), the juxtaposition of the white upper crust at the turn of the 19th century with the socio-political, blood-letting genre pleasures of zombie and martial arts movies is a lot of fun. Not blow-your-mind, innovative fun, but straightforward, shoveling-popcorn-in-your-face, night-out-at-the-movies fun. The novelty wears off, though, and what’s left is a decently entertaining but frustratingly anti-climactic pop culture mash-up that doesn’t quite live up to its potential.

Writer-director Burr Steers does indeed have a few good things in place at the film’s outset, most notably a game young cast who generally hold up their end of the bargain. Elizabeth (Lily James), Jane (Bella Heathcote) and the rest of the Bennet sisters grab our attention immediately, gossiping and fantasizing about their respective dream suitors as they tighten each others’ corsets and polish their pointy zombie-slaying weapons. (The movie’s gender-reversal twist is that, in this world, the women generally do the fighting while the men often cower away in a corner. It’s a strong sentiment that loses its power due to Steers trumpeting it too loudly.) The strongest male warrior in the land, the brooding, handsome Mr. Darcy (a pleasantly ashy-voiced Sam Riley), who Elizabeth at first detests. The sexual tension between them is as thick as butter, of course (they’re both stubborn loners), and James and Riley do a fine job building that chemistry. Jane’s matched up with Mr. Bingley (Douglass Booth), but their relationship’s only significant to the plot and nothing more.

Elizabeth and Darcy is where all the real action and drama stems from; their union is inevitable but is stopped dead (cough) by an impending wave of zombie hordes that threatens to wipe out all of London. While the hard-headed Darcy prefers to meet the undead head-on on the battlefield, Elizabeth meets a shady stranger who proposes a treaty with the zombies, facilitated by a process that placates their hunger for human flesh (feed them animal parts and they stop being belligerent assholes for a while). The plot really starts to get in the way of the actors in that they aren’t really given a lot of space to explore the more interesting corners of their respective characters’ personalities before a stupid string of exposition ruins the mood. That being said, James and Riley are a wonderful match and go above and beyond to keep us invested.

What’s worse, with all the anticipation built up of an unstoppable zombie army and the promise of a great war with the undead for the fate of London, we get absolutely nothing of the sort. There are a few displays of zombie slaughtering throughout the movie, but an epic, sprawling, LOTR: The Two Towers melee never comes. A disappointment to say the least.

The movie’s half-comedy, of course, its silly premise a clear giveaway that we shouldn’t take the material so goddamn seriously. Problem is, the movie just isn’t that funny. Again, much of the humor relies on the subversion of gender roles too heavily (is seeing a woman kick ass in a movie really so uncommon that we need to point it out so incessantly?) and the novelty of aristocrats being highly skilled warriors loses its luster before the plot even gets going. The movie’s major highlight is Matt Smith, playing the prissy Parson Collins who, despite his best efforts, can’t convince any of the Bennet sisters to take his hand in marriage. He first has his sights set on the already-spoken-for Jane but then concedes that he’ll settle for any of the sisters, a sentiment that isn’t met favorably by the girls or their parents (Charles Dance and Sally Phillips). Parson’s inability to see himself for the idiot the rest of us see him as is one joke that never gets old, thanks to the refined talents of Mr. Smith.

Steers tries to represent the wit of Austen’s material as best he can, but all the nonsense of the (frankly awful) zombie-slaying half of the story gets in the way at every turn. There’s a balance to be struck between respecting the integrity of Pride and Prejudice while having fun with the wacky experiment of throwing zombies into the mix, and Steers’ attempt is decidedly wobbly. The romance done well, but the decapitation, stabbing and zombie mass-destruction? That bit could have used an extra dash of crazy sauce to even out this unappetizing plate of lit-horror fusion.

Hugh Grant goes with rom-coms like teenage girls and vampires. Like eggs and bacon. Like Hall and Oates. Like Kirk and Spock. You get the idea, pick a Valentine’s card, put Hugh Grant’s face on it, commence swooning. He may be getting a bit older and a bit less believable as the dashing, stuttering, male lead he’s become famous for playing, but well, if we know anything about Hollywood, it’s that the men are allowed to get older as long as their female love interests stay just as young. The Rewrite, the latest from Music and Lyrics and Did You Hear About the Morgans writer-director Marc Lawrence, does have a young love interest—AND a very age-appropriate love interest as well in the form of Marisa Tomei. But where the film bores isn’t in its coupling—indeed that only serves to make us quite nostalgic for an A-game Grant and Tomei rom-com that never was—instead it’s the film’s trite plot and over-gimmicked characters that would have amused ten years ago and are now too overplayed.

The Rewrite isn’t your usual rom-com, and that’s because it isn’t actually a rom-com. Not in the strictest sense of the genre. There’s sexy time, and single people, but no one is actually pursuing anyone in this film. Instead we have Hugh Grant playing washed up screenwriter Keith Michaels, his Oscar-winning hey-day long over, struggling to sell any of his ideas for a film. Producers want sexy female action films and he’s showing his age pitching nostalgic retrospective pieces. He begs his agent for a job of any sort and she suggests a teaching gig at an upstate New York college. He’s above such things, but when his electricity gets turned off he unsurprisingly rethinks the offer.

Upon almost instant arrival to his new gig Michaels makes the immediate mistake of shacking up with a student, impressing her with tales of his award-winning career. As a prospective for his screenwriting class, Karen (Bella Heathcote) gets into his class of course, but Michaels has a hard time shaking her off when he’s told that professor-student relationships are—surprise, surprise—strictly forbidden and grounds for dismissal.

Oblivious and narcissistic, Michaels picks almost his entire class based on their Facebook profile pictures. Which means older student Holly Carpenter (Marisa Tomei) doesn’t make the cut, she with two daughters, just trying to finish her education, and happy to simply receive some feedback from Professor Michaels on a script she’s written.

After proving how ill-fit he is for academia when he offends a fellow English department professor (Allison Janney) by (in an almost too naive way) poking fun at Jane Austen, Michaels finds himself on thin ice and, with no actual teaching experience, not especially sure what he’s doing. The middle of the film drags somewhat as Michaels begins to connect with his students, understanding more about them through their writing and letting them lead the class discussions to create the illusion he’s actually teaching. He and Tomei have a few candid conversations during office hours and around campus where she snoopily (though with a believable amiability) inquires into his personal life and offers advice around his estrangement to his son.

Additionally, his prying but friendly neighbor Jim (Chris Elliott) and the department head Dr. Lerner (J.K. Simmons) serve their particular purposes acting as Keith’s one-dimensional friends teaching him life lessons in accepting his life’s progression into an older man with a new career. Teachers might be slightly offended by the implications that not only do those who can’t do, teach, but that it’s not particularly requiring of talent.

The film ends predictably, though not believably, but this film never boasts believability as a goal. The title confused me at first, as Michaels doesn’t actually do any writing in the film, a more sentimental person had to point out it must refer to him rewriting his own life. There aren’t enough eye-rolls in the world. Altogether, I give credit to Tomei and Grant, who really do make a great pair with a believable chemistry. I only wish this script had opted for a rewrite as they are never allowed to be much more than friends until a rather awkward shift at the very end. Me-via-1999 was beyond disappointed in the lack of heart-swelling I felt, and modern me was just annoyed at how calculable everything felt.

Marc Lawrence has either lost some of his romanticism or hasn’t quite figured out how to allow it to age with his protagonists, not to mention the modern sensibilities and expectations of today’s audiences. Here’s hoping he figures it out, as he’s clearly very talented, as are both Grant and Tomei who I will gladly watch on-screen anytime. I hope someone thinks to put them in another film together, and this time give them something to bite into.

The Rewrite has a limited New York City theatrical release February 13.