This is one of those allegedly pop-feminist comedies that invites audiences to root for the massed legions of decent women wronged by awful men throughout the world.

Hey, there's nothing wrong with that. After all, The First Wives Club and Nine to Five extracted some comedy from the same set-up. But Nick Cassavetes's picture echoes with so many bum notes that you leave the cinema desperate for an ice pack and a dark room.

Just about surviving severe casting against type, Cameron Diaz appears as disciplined lawyer much in love with Nikolaj Coster-Waldau's suave financial something-or-other. Before too long, she discovers that the cad has a wife (Leslie Mann) secreted in the suburbs. After overcoming understandable friction, wife and mistress end up as friends and, now tailing the rotter, discover that he has yet another squeeze (Kate Upton) on the go. The trio plot revenge.

The least said about Ms Upton's efforts at acting (indeed, speaking) the sooner she can return to the cover of Sports Illustrated. Thankfully, the model doesn't say too much anyway. Diaz does what she does with tolerable efficiency.

The real problem is Leslie Mann. Clearly convinced he has an improvisational genius on his hands, Cassavetes allows his star to extend every supposedly comic situation – falling into a hedge; throwing up in bar – to such excruciating lengths that time seems to seize up and the Earth appears to freeze on its axis.

Look elsewhere for the next Bridesmaids.