Much has been written about Nancy Myers’ previous films, and indeed, though she virulently represents the interests of the undemanding white middle-class (undemanding white middle-class women in particular), that doesn’t mean she can’t be edgy. With an all-star cast and an interesting premise, it’s all the more shameful that It’s Complicated actually isn’t.

Our protagonist is Jane (Meryl Streep), a divorcee who has been living alone for the last decade after her husband, Jake (Alec Baldwin) cheated on her with a younger woman, Agness (Lake Bell), to whom he is now married. However, Jane and Jake are quite civil due to encouragement from their three grown children, but things become messy when, after quite a few drinks after their son’s graduation, they begin a sordid affair. Jane is torn not only in regard to the morality of adultery, but also to another potential suitor, in jilted divorcee Adam (Steve Martin), with whom she has unmistakable chemistry.

If Meyers’ film handles anything well, it’s in cementing the awkwardness of divorce, and you needn’t be from a broken home to want to cringe once Jake’s gorgeous young wife shows up at a party that Jane herself is attending. Jane quietly slinks out of the party, and indeed, much of the film’s humour comes from the self-deprecating demeanours of its characters, with Jane being a neurotic headcase who doesn’t know what she wants, while Jake is a sleazy, shamelessly lecherous type. To this effect, their affair is at least set up well, because it’s clear that they’re both discontented spiritually and worried about growing old.

However, the writing simply isn’t clever enough to support the admittedly promising twist on a well-trodden concept, and the potential for a uniquely witty, Woody Allen-esque analysis of life and love is substituted for silly sight gags, such as Baldwin posing naked in front of a laptop, unaware that Martin’s character is watching in horror on the other end. Streep’s character getting stoned before meeting Martin’s is certainly cringe-inducing, but it at least gives us a sight I never expected to see on film: Steve Martin taking a monster hit on a joint. These daft moments overcrowd the film, and the laptop scene in particular is used to create a fairly hokey sense of narrative tension that could easily have been explained away were the characters not so mind-numbingly stupid at times.

So what works? Of course, the performances throughout are solid, but Streep’s chameleonic performance in Julie & Julia will be the one that she is remembered for this year. The true delight, in fact, is Alec Baldwin, going for broke in a role that has him mocking his sagging waistline, while also inviting comparisons to co-star Martin, who is in fact over a decade older but appears to have taken much better care of himself. Joining the terrible trio are some decent supporting turns; The Office star John Krasinski adds a welcome dash of deer-in-the-headlights disbelief as Jane’s budding son-in-law, while Rita Wilson cameos as Jane’s friend, and Weeds star Hunter Parrish appears briefly as one of Streep’s sons.

The film is marred by one huge flaw, though, and that’s how uneven its treatment of Jake and Adam is; Martin scarcely appears in the film’s first hour other than to tell his divorce sob story, while Baldwin dominates things, and by the time Jane has to pick between the two, we still aren’t acquainted enough with Martin’s character for her dilemma to be compelling, nor its payoff satisfying. Furthermore, the script just doesn’t feel emotional plausible, stacking the platitudes high while failing to provide a convincing case that Jane’s almost creepy Stepford family would still be upset about their parents’ divorce a decade later. It makes for an overwrought finale that barely manages to stumble towards the finish line with a scrap of maturity before fumbling it with a pandering, syrupy, eleventh-hour close that seemingly undoes everything the previous scenes established.

Despite the veil of sophistry that Meyers’ rigidly middle-class films frequently assume, this is an oddly shallow rom-com that tests the waters of edginess (with one scene revolving around cannabis use), while remaining oddly distant with a script that pushes mild sight gags over cutting dialogue. Good performances elevate the material (particularly Baldwin at his manic best), but the film’s self-deprecating charm can only take it so far. Martin isn’t give enough screen time, and ultimately there’s not much appeal outside of the film’s target audience of undemanding middle-aged women.