I'm a firm believer in not saying anything about someone if you don't have something nice to say. So I'd like to start my From Justin to Kelly column by noting that some of the movie's musical numbers are fun, that costars Anika Noni Rose and Katherine Bailess are funny, pretty scene-stealers, and that star/former American Idol runner-up Justin Guarini is a curly headed swoony bucket of yum.

That said, I must also inform you of my equally fervent belief in calling it like I see it. And as I see it, From Justin to Kelly is bad. Really bad. Glitter bad. Unintentional gales of laughter, people walking out of a free preview, written and directed by NyQuil-addicted primates bad. (Actually, it's directed by She's All That helmer Robert Iscove and written by Spice World scripter Kim Fuller. Secretly, I think they're just a front for the monkeys. Humans cannot be responsible for this.)

I really, really wanted to like From Justin, because I love musicals and cheese, and because I met and adored Guarini and costar/partner-in-crime Kelly Clarkson this spring. They were so cute, so gosh-darned nice, that I remember silently praying, "Oh please, Lord, don't let their movie be stinky. I don't wanna have to write something hateful and bitter about these sweet children's movie. You know I will. But Lord, I don't wanna."

Well, Justin and Kelly, I love you. I mean it. You're the best. But your movie's a big, tragic mess.

J&K described the movie's concept as "Grease on the beach," and they're not that far off, except that Grease was good and this is not. Justin (Guarini) is a lady-loving party promoter who's in Miami on spring break with his friends, scammy Brandon (Greg Siff) and dorky Eddie (Brian Dietzen). Justin and Brandon have a reputation for hosting the wildest parties on the beach, and the two have an endless stream of bikini-wearing hootchies throwing themselves at them for attention and party invites. Hopeless square Eddie, meanwhile, is looking to meet his cyber-girlfriend, Lizzie (West Palm Beach's very own adorable Toi Stepp).

Meeting scene is a turkey

Somewhere down the beach, sensible Texas bar singer Kelly (Clarkson), smart Kaya (Rose) and vampy Alexa (Bailess) are preparing for a week of fun and flings in the sun. Well, Kaya and Alexa are; Kelly's there only because her buddies talked her into it, and this isn't her scene.

Which is exactly why we know that it's cutey Kelly who will lock eyes with dreamy Justin, during the awkward but cute first musical number. Everyone is dancing from person to person, singing some dopey song about how cool this all is, and suddenly Justin and Kelly are next to each other. And they're singing something equivalent to "Hey, we've got an instant special connection" to each other. And then BAM! they're on to someone else.

That's when I knew that From Justin to Kelly was gonna snort goat cheese. You know how important that momentous "meet cute" moment is in romantic comedies. In Grease, we get a whole song about how Danny and Sandy met at the beach. In West Side Story, Maria and Tony get a long, balletic, earth-standing-still dance scene. Heck, the first thing Baby says to Johnny in Dirty Dancing is, "I carried a watermelon," and that was more special than this. (Also, Patrick Swayze was 100 percent sex appeal in matador pants.)

Clarkson is a pleasant screen presence, if not an actual actress. Guarini's more natural, and infinitely more charming. Though they're not the successful music/acting crossovers that, say, Ice Cube and Eve are, they're at least better than poor Mariah Carey or Vanilla Ice. But who isn't?

I have to admit that, even after their dorky first couple of meetings, the chemistry between the movie Justin and Kelly does seem to grow. Their sweet but hot first kiss is so stunning that the audience, which had only three seconds earlier been laughing hysterically at a moment that wasn't supposed to be funny, stopped mocking and collectively sighed.

But that chemistry can't save the movie, which is badly written, awkwardly choreographed and often shot lopsided or crooked, as if the camera were resting on a beanbag. And for some reason J&K's big lovey-dovey musical number is shot on a boat where they're singing passionately not to each other, but to . . . the water! They don't look at each other once. I think it's supposed to be about tension, but it comes off looking goofy. Dude? She's over there!

Nasty Alexa steals show

Plotwise, J&K's love story is complicated by scheming Southern belle Alexa, who has the hots for Justin and is trying her best to keep them apart through an elaborate system of deceptive text messaging and short skirts. Actually, Alexa's the most interesting character, because she has some subtext (low self-esteem, Kelly-jealousy issues) that explain her skankiness.

By the end, I was genuinely sorry. Sorry that such nice people had to be in such a horrible movie. Sorry that I had to say bad things about it. Sorry that I even had to see it. And, lastly, sorry that movie critics can't walk out of screenings they're reviewing. Sorry about that, most of all.

The Flick Chick's Bottom Line: If Clay and Ruben make a movie now, I'm gonna cry.