A certain type of celebrity fan has been awaiting this in the same way ambulance-chasers hang around accident black spots in the hope of seeing a pile-up.

This time, however, they are going to be a little disappointed. Compared to the cinematic car wreck that was Ben and J.Lo's last outing - Gigli - it's only a minor shunt.

This is largely because Lopez makes her exit just 15 minutes in when she suffers a brain clot during childbirth leaving hubbie Ben holding the baby.

He's a hotshot Manhattan music publicist... but finds it difficult to adjust to his new circumstances, particularly the thorny question of childcare.

Foisting the nipper onto his blue-collar dad in suburban New Jersey, he carries on his career as normal until a disastrous launch for Will Smith.

Forced to bring the sprog along, Ben coats himself in talcum powder (raising the expected eyebrows from industry cokeheads) and disses the Fresh Prince.

Twenty four hours later he's back living with pop and working as a road sweeper in the council's works department instead of taking calls from Madonna.

This underpowered comedy drama couldn't be further away from director Kevin Smith's Clerks and there's little to distinguish it in a market swimming with similar fare.

It must soon be obvious to some Hollywood high-up that it doesn't take much to severely stretch Affleck and the movie stands or falls on his performance.

Unfortunately, it pretty much falls as there seems to be a grating smirk playing around his lips in even the most dramatic moments.

Liv Tyler just irritates as a kooky video shop assistant who interviews Affleck about his penchant for porn and then offers him a "mercy jump" whe she hears he's been celibate since his wife's death.

Newcomer Raquel Castro is suitably cute as the Cats-obsessed daughter satisfied with life in the 'burbs while "daddy wants to eat sushi, daddy wants to hail cabs and daddy wants to lord it over music producers."

The person Affleck should really be lording it over is his agent.

Tim Evans