The handsome, glib and perpetually tanned Matthew McConaughey is well on his way to becoming the George Hamilton of the Gen-Y set. While McConaughey has a likable screen presence and some comic flair, he persists in signing on to only the most insipid rom-coms. Here, he plays the same insta-character -- Connor Mead, a charming bed-hopping bachelor who refuses to admit that he really just wants to snuggle with his one true love, childhood sweetheart Jenny (Jennifer Garner). It all plays out at -- naturally -- a super-fancy wedding, and Connor's transformation comes courtesy of uncredited screenwriter Charles Dickens. Like Scrooge, Connor is visited by three ghosts, who show him what a cad he was, what a tool he is and what a sad lonely fool he'll become -- though I don't recall Dickens ever parsing the critical issue of wedding-party sex. McConaughey can play this silly fluff in his sleep, and he may well be, considering he doesn't even bother to tidy up his honeyed Texas drawl to play a character from New England. Without fresh laughs or clever plot twists, what is left to do but ogle the ultra-buff McConaughey? But alas, director Mark Waters gives the leering peanut gallery only one measly shot of Best Chest in the West.