About a year before Ellen DeGeneres came out of the closet, effectively declaring that any man would be her "Mr. Wrong," she starred in this wrong-headed comedy. Was this her last romantic lead because the perception changed about which roles she was suited to play? Or just because Mr. Wrong stunk so much? It's hard to say. That Nick Castle Jr.'s film is a confused mess is a bit more certain. For starters, it makes peculiar use of Bill Pullman, known for the likability and passivity on display in Sleepless in Seattle. Playing drastically against type, Pullman does a decent job conjuring the unhinged stalker within, his debonair charms perverted easily enough into creepy tunnel vision. (The actor seemed to like the change, as he starred in David Lynch's Lost Highway a year later). The problem is, he doesn't make any sense. It's hard to imagine a total Philistine being this good at impersonating a cultured hunk. He's got to have some sense to concoct this kind of charade, and a simple comment to "be himself" would not encourage such an obsessive character to unleash his true vulgarity. Further overbalancing the film into belabored shtick is Joan Cusack, as his psychotic ex-girlfriend. Armed with her trademark shrillness, Cusack repeatedly threatens and kidnaps DeGeneres' disbelieving Martha, who wants nothing to do with any of it. The whole thing is too exaggerated for good satire, and consequently, Castle can never find the right tone. As the film goes further off the rails with each passing development, it's almost forgotten that near the start, Castle makes an abortive attempt to sensitively portray Martha as a tragic soul starved for companionship. Truly, Castle's differing agendas for Mr. Wrong seem about as incompatible as his leads.