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The Whole Nine Yards, 2000. Directed by Jonathan Lynn. Bruce Willis, Matthew Perry, Amanda Peet, Michael Clarke Duncan, Natasha Henstridge, Kevin Pollack, Rosanna Arquette. Comedy often works best under the threat of death. I once had a professor for a Shakespeare class that called this sort of thing "Serious Relief." This explains, I think, the popularity of the "mob" comedy, a sub-genre that includes movies from Some Like it Hot to Married to the Mob. The Whole Nine Yards is the latest entry in this sub-genre, in which mild mannered, hen-pecked dentist Matthew Perry discovers that the man who just moved in next door (Willis) is actually a mob hitman in disguise.  Perry's shrewish wife sees this as an opportunity and bundles him off to rat out Willis to the mob, while trying to hire Willis to bump off her husband. Into this mix, we have Perry's perky assistant who is "a big fan" of Willis's character, Willis's gorgeous estranged wife, and the hitman in charge of taking Willis out. All of this is set up to run like a screwball comedy. Sometimes it actually works that way. The Whole Nine Yards isn't a bad movie, really. It is funny in fits and starts. But it is timid. It doesn't know how to push amusing situations into outright hilarity. Part of this is how it is filmed. If it had maintained the bizarre attention to detail that it used for its credit sequence, it might have worked as a surreal comedy. If it were a little more black hearted, it might work as a black comedy. If it were pitched a little more broadly, it might work as a farce. As it is, it works as a sitcom. In this respect, it is probably a perfect vehicle for sitcom veteran Matthew Perry, who translates his Friends persona more or less intact onto the big screen. It's amusing, but it isn't a particularly good character. Willis is trading on his persona, too. He has more charisma than Perry does, but less of a sense of comedy. The actual characters are found in the supporting cast: Michael Clarke Duncan is excellent as good-natured hit man Frankie the Finger Figeroa, and Amanda Peet as Perry's assistant is some kind of comic marvel. Peet is given one of the hardest kinds of scenes to play--a funny nude scene--and pulls it off with aplomb. The Whole Nine Yards's actual effect on the audience is fairly subdued. It isn't gut-busting, but it never really wears out its welcome. It doesn't make the audience cringe, although a little more discomfort might be helpful. The movie would be a LOT better if it were pricklier. In this respect, it resembles the last mob comedy that came down the pipe: Analyze This. And like that movie, I sincerely doubt that anyone is going to remember much about it ten years down the line.