If you find Paul Rudd’s genteel smart-assery to be the cat’s pajamas, or somehow aren’t confounded by Jennifer Aniston continuing to have a movie career despite sucking the charisma out of every project she appears in, then perhaps you’ll get more out of Wanderlust than I did. Even then, your prospects might be iffy, since the leads are the least of the film’s worries. Rudd and Aniston play George and Linda, married New Yorkers who’re forced to move to Atlanta when George suddenly loses his job. On the way there, they stumble upon a commune of hippies living in the Georgia backwoods. After one eye-opening night — and after seeing the alternative of living with George’s gauche, loudmouthed brother (Ken Marino) in Atlanta — the duo decides to move in with these flighty free spirits in order to escape the horrors of modern life. The film works on George’s realization that he finds hippies annoying, while the flaky Linda soon finds herself being drawn into this Bohemian lifestyle. The majority of the film’s humor comes from the idea that hippies are weird, out-of-touch burnouts who reject the mores of modernity in exchange for extravagant and often bizarre notions on how to live, cranked up here into an absurd parody. Fine. I’m not here to argue the validity, or lack thereof, of this caricature, but rather to point out that it is a caricature, one without the legs or originality to carry an entire picture. There’s been a big deal over whether or not Aniston bares her breasts, and before you fork over hard-earned admissions, I will tell you that she shows nothing that would embarrass her mother — except maybe her acting. Actually, that the biggest hype surrounding this movie: the possibility of Jennifer Aniston exposing her aureoles to the world should be a clue as to what this film has to offer.