It's unfair to demand that every movie break new ground. After all, generic types exist in film because audiences like to know what type of story they're going to go see, whether it's "downtrodden woman stands strong against oppressive odds to provide for her family," "tough man with an inherent sense of justice confronts an unjust world to save those who are weaker than he," or, in the case of the new Dane Cook vehicle "Employee of the Month," "underachieving but exceptional everyman gets the girl he wants by proving, through a series of gut-busting hijinks, that he deserves her." What is fair to demand of a film, however, is that it justify its existence by the end — that it leave the audience with a feeling that somebody made the film and asked them to sit through it because he or she had something unique to show. Unfortunately, nobody bothered to consider this when making "Employee of the Month," and as the credits roll the thoughtful viewer can only react with a shrug.

Nearly all of the action of "Employee" is set in a Price Club-style bulk store where charming but average Zack (Dane Cook) works as a "box boy," the lowest rung on a none-too-prestigious ladder, complacently slacking off with his ambitionless comrades (among them comedian Harland Williams of "Rocket Man" and a thoroughly underutilized Andy Dick) and hating the store's upper crust, especially the cartoonishly villainous star employee Vince (Dax Shepard, "Idiocracy"), who is always employee of the month. The cycle of sloth is broken, however, with the arrival of Amy (Jessica Simpson), a beautiful new cashier with whom Zack becomes immediately infatuated. Zack wants to know more about this enchanting young woman, so he manages to get a hold of her personnel file, which reveals the motivator of the entire plot and the primary of the movie's many weaknesses: she only dates the employee of the month (but wait, that guy's a jerk! Oh no!). Never mind what exactly this means (does she only date him for that month? Does she always date him no matter what?), or why this information would be available in a personnel file; the writers obviously don't care and don't expect the audience to. What follows is 30 days of one-upmanship between Zack and Dax, both vying for the coveted plaque and the heart of Amy, which apparently goes with it. Along the way Zack's quest becomes an attempt to rediscover his dignity and will to succeed. The winner also gets a car.

This head-scratching quality of Simpson's employee-of-month fetish exemplifies the lazy filmmaking that poisons the entire movie. There is no way the unanswered questions about Simpson's romantic preference simply never occurred to the screenwriters — it must be that they just didn't care, like the concept was written on the back of a business card in an elevator on the way up to the pitch meeting and never given a thought afterwards. This laziness shows itself as well in the explanation of the exceptional Cook's loser status: he lost his self-respect and cashed in a failed dot-com venture ten years previous. Apparently, he's an entrepreneur at heart, though this fact never comes up again, giving no satisfaction to the viewers who might wonder why exactly a man with such formerly lofty dreams would get so much life-affirmation by being the employee of the month at a discount store. This half-assed attempt at character development manages to stand out as the only such attempt made by co-writers Don Calame and Chris Conroy. Shepard is evil because he is. Simpson is pretty and works at a store. The supporting cast members are each defined by a single joke: Andy Dick's character Lon has thick glasses and can hardly see, Williams's Russell makes references to naughty body parts, South Asian co-worker Iqbal has a whole lot of children, the manager is a closeted homosexual and the corporate manager is a tyrannical dwarf. Are you chuckling yet?

Of course "Employee" is a comedy, not a character study, so the primary goal is laughs. Unfortunately, it lacks those as well. Dane Cook fans shouldn't expect any of his trademark body flailing, non-sequiturs, or other shenanigans. In "Employee," his job is clear: play the aw-shucks good guy (or, more accurately, its newest variation — the "aw-shucks-my-hair-is-all-messed-up" good guy) with a winning smile. It's a role that could be filled by any of the David Schwimmers of Hollywood. In his scenes with his buddies he plays the straight man, while in his scenes with Simpson not a laugh is heard, but one can't begrudge him that. (You try playing a comedy scene with Jessica Simpson. Maybe she shouldn't have been cast in a comedy, huh?)

Shepard does an adequate job of playing the pathetic egotistical villain, scheming and abusing his dopey henchman. His comedic skills seem to be given the most faith and face time, but his bits often fall flat and get tired mighty quick. Dick is usually funny, but here he's given little to do besides squint, and his performance reeks of a fat paycheck. In fact, the whole affair reeks of the same. It's Hollywood going through the motions, a movie made because a movie had to be made and people sure seem to like that Dane Cook fellow. "Employee of the Month" should never have existed, because it was never given a soul, receiving instead a hollow tin robot on autopilot manufactured by an automated factory on autopilot, neither machine possessing the faculties to ask, "In God's name, why?"

Grade: 0 out of 5