OxfordPress.com

A remake of a 1969 throwaway caper flick starring Michael Caine and three adorable Mini Coopers, the movie is pleasantly competent, which is a little like recommending a restaurant because you won't get food poisoning. Probably the most distinctive thing about this version is that the Mini Coopers have more charisma than the star, Mark Wahlberg.

Wahlberg plays a member, part of a highly proficient gang of thieves, each with his own specialty: Jason Statham, the driver; Seth Green, the electronics whiz; Edward Norton, the inside man; Mos Def, the explosives expert; and their leader, Donald Sutherland, who's retiring after one last heist.

And quite a heist it is. The men are in Venice to steal $35 million in gold bricks. Everything goes well during the robbery (a nifty combination of cleverness and action), but afterwards, things go awry. Joining the guys to straighten things out is Sutherland's gorgeous daughter (Charlize Theron), a skilled and strictly legal safecracker (she test locks). Until now.

Def has a movie star's face and a movie star's presence. Statham, who single-handedly held together last fall's erratic "The Transporter," should be making Vin Diesel's movies and Vin Diesel's money.

Theron gets to do everything her male co-stars do, but the script doesn't give her much to do besides be smart and beautiful (something she routinely does on any given talk show). But it's Green who makes the most of his time onscreen, as the comic-relief computer nerd.

And that's part of what's wrong with "The Italian Job." Green doesn't have to do much more than spit out one-liners, something that calls for, well, competent comic timing more than anything else.

As movie fans with Internet access probably already know, Norton did the film under duress, as part of a three-picture deal he'd made earlier. Knowing that makes his acting -- or lack thereof -- all the more interesting. A world-class actor so blatantly phoning in his work has a weird performance-art fascination.

Finally, there's Wahlberg, a likable presence who's given some good performances and doesn't behave like a self-promoting Hollywood skank off-screen. But here he's little more than a well-groomed blank.

Wahlberg is so Not There, I passed the time by contemplating his Hollywood career. What is it about this personable actor that suggests to Hollywood powers that he can be the new Cary Grant ("The Truth About Charlie"), the next Charlton Heston ("Planet of the Apes") or a young Michael Caine? Do they see him as a generic handsome guy, sort of a empty slate on which they can project any number of Hollywood icons?

I don't mind Wahlberg in the least. But that in itself may be the problem. Movie stars used to have impact. Brando was Brando, love him or hate him. With Wahlberg, you really don't have strong feelings. Which may explain why, in an industry increasingly comfortable with brand-name blandness, a dutiful B-movie talent has been the beneficiary of so many A-movie roles.