Paul Mazursky's "Scenes from a Mall" explores the rigors of modern romance, Beverly Hills style.

Bette Midler and Woody Allen portray the Fifers, who are celebrating their 16th anniversary in their traditional way: a quick roll between the sheets, then off to the mall to buy the sushi for the dinner party they annually host.

This year, however, their shopping trip involves bigger surprises than just the yearly gift exchange. As Allen's character, Nick, remarks: "Sixteen years is a modern record." Making it to 17 years of marriage may be impossible.

Nick chomps on Stress-Age gum, which turns toxic green when the chewer is in serious psychological jeopardy. Halfway through his 16th anniversary, the gum is black as pitch. Witty, neurotic moments like this one provide some laughs, but soon the wish that these two would just get it together and shut up becomes impossible to repress.

"Scenes from a Mall" has some funny moments, but the neurotic whining so characteristic of Allen's work, and a predictable plot reduce the film to mediocrity. For die-hard Allen fans, this film will be worthwhile, but a severe lack of chemistry between he and Midler combined with the corny story make it almost tiresome to watch.

Besides sushi, the couple munches on such trendy Californian delicacies as quail eggs and sea urchin. The Fifers exemplify the stereotypical nouveau riche, conspicuously consuming all things hip and cool, yet skimping on such "meaningless and corny things" as their children's allowance.

Mazursky's twistedly affectionate view of Beverly Hills life works well, and scenes involving the couple's lavish lifestyle spawn most of the humor. Similar to "L.A. Story," Southern California is romanticized and its darker side exposed in a lovingly funny way.

For example, the parking garage attached to the mall is shaped like the Guggenheim Museum, spiraling and packed with high-performance vehicles. Men sit in the cars and wait for admittance to the garage, talking on their obligatory car phones to their wives, while their mistresses pose in the passenger seat. Nick remarks that fighting for a parking space is "man against humanity."

"Scenes from a Mall" doesn't work as well as it could have if the characters were more likable and less neurotic. Midler's performance is completely unbelievable and forced, ranging from neurotic to histrionic. The make-up/break-up cycle of the film soon becomes ridiculous and perfectly obvious, undermining any suspense Mazursky sought to build.

Nick cares more for his kids' skis than his kids. Deborah frantically interrupts their marriage breakdown to retrieve the personalized surfboard she bought for Nick as an anniversary present. If these callous oddities were remotely funny, the film would have been a lot more fun. Instead, the nagging feeling of "Why am I sitting here watching these two idiots whine?" intrudes upon the suspension of disbelief that all good films can sustain throughout their running time.