Sometimes a movie is so awful it achieves an internal purity that is almost pleasing--watching it, we separate from reality and lose ourselves in a Wonderland world where bad is good. Eye of the Beholder, a new film starring Ashley Judd and Ewan McGregor, can't even accomplish that. It's such a muddled disaster that its numerous despicable qualities undermine each other, robbing us of even the simple pleasure of derision.

The story, such as it is, concerns The Eye. That's right, our main character is known only as The Eye. His real name isn't the only piece of information we're missing. In fact, the only thing we know about him is that he works as a top-notch surveillance agent for the British government.

Sent on a private mission by the security service's chief, The Eye stumbles upon Joanna (Ashley Judd). Actually, we won't learn her real name until the movie's halfway point. What we learn early on, though, is that Joanna has a fabulous figure. In her first minute of screen time, while Eye is surreptitiously videotaping, she strips down to her red bra and panties, all the better to kill her companion. Oh yes, Joanna is a serial killer/femme fatale. And then, for reasons completely inexplicable, she takes it all off in order to dispose of the dead man.

This obsession with Judd's body continues throughout the first half of the film. We see her stepping into the bath, lounging in the bath, wrapped in a towel (two separate occasions), and wearing a ludicrous lingerie outfit and high heels--alone in her own apartment!

Actually, she's not alone, as Eye has by now taken to spying on Joanna; and though Joanna is a professional killer (she dispatches men with ease), she never notices this geeky guy following her around, setting up not-so-hidden cameras. Will narrative wonders never cease?

At times, however, the script actually seems to be doing something interesting. For a good part of the film, Eye has these surreal conversations with his daughter. They're surreal because she's not actually there; she left mysteriously several years ago, for which Eye blames himself. But instead of using this theme to create tension or resolution, writer and director Stephen Elliott (Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert) just drops it. We never find out what happened to the daughter (much less see a happy reunion) or even why Eye holds himself accountable.

Then there's the problem of time. Joanna was born in 1944 (so her rap sheet says), but her stylish, classic Hollywood clothes and certain props (train engines being the best example) place the film in the '50s. Trust me, Judd is no teenage girl. Later, however, we find out that Joanna was a teenager in the early '80s. These jumps in chronology are clearly intentional, and in a competent director's hands they might actually mean something. But, in the end, they're nothing more than weird incongruities.

All of this might be overlooked if there was actually some chemistry between Judd and McGregor, but Elliott doesn't even let them on the screen together until the final 20 minutes; and even that turns out to be a dud. That Elliott has so completely wasted two fine actors is a crime. Judd has little to do but change clothes (or not--in one instance, she runs out onto the street wearing nothing but underwear and a fur coat). And Ewan McGregor is, if you can believe this, even flatter than he was in Phantom Menace. And his growing obsession only expresses itself in following Judd and making strange twitches with his face. As to why he's obsessed, who knows?! Clearly the filmmakers don't.

Film critics often waste too much space bemoaning the evils of studio interference, of ignorant executives forcing their will on innocent directors. But if ever there was a case advocating for the penny-pinchers, it's this monstrosity. And yet clearly none of the five producers or other assorted studio flacks at Dimension Films could behold well enough to intervene. But why? Wasn't it patently clear that this movie was neither a love story nor a thriller, and that any hint of psychological interest was completely doomed by the utter blankness of its title character and the cluelessness of the object of desire? Didn't anyone notice that not only was there no compelling reason to produce this film, it's hard to imagine what its target audience might be? And if you're going to go ahead and make it anyway, did it have to be so boring, as if no one cared? Even a Van Damme movie has its outrageous moments of camp.

If this couldn't get any worse, there's the beautiful Ms. Judd to consider. A fine actress she is, as can be seen from her early films Ruby in Paradise and Smoke. But her agent (or whoever's finding these roles) should be forced to repeatedly watch Eye of the Beholder until his entire being has metamorphosed into a molding mass of mildew. We can only hope that Judd's new-found starpower (courtesy of Double Jeopardy) will allow her some freedom in the future.

I know that there's not much new in the theaters these days, but please don't waste your time on this dreck. There's Topsy Turvy or Angela's Ashes or a repeat viewing of Magnolia (definitely worth a second look). If your sole intention is to see Ashley Judd with little on, you can leave after 45 minutes. I promise you, the movie isn't getting any better.