Movies

‘The Other Woman’ not worth falling for

Playing like a script that’s been moldering since Diane Keaton turned it down in 1983, “The Other Woman” is a weak adultery rom-com in which the most authentic performance comes from a non-housebroken Great Dane.

The premise, basically, is that the best way to deal with a cheater is to devote every waking minute to thinking about him. Screenwriter Melissa Stack and director Nick Cassavetes (“The Notebook,” “My Sister’s Keeper”) do wrong by all three women here: Cameron Diaz’s prickly businesswoman, Leslie Mann’s irritating crybaby of a housewife and certainly poor Kate Upton, who’s actually referred to at one point as “The Boobs.”

And it’s really been a rough week for Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, coming off Sunday’s “Game of Thrones” rape-scene controversy, who mugs his way through a series of unfunny comeuppances — including a thoroughly icky bathroom scene.

We begin as Carly (Diaz), a Manhattan lawyer, falls for the dashing Mark (Coster-Waldau), who seems too good to be true. And he is, she discovers when she shows up unannounced at his Connecticut home: He’s got a wife (Mann), and at least one other mistress (Upton).

Mann’s Kate, a slight variation on her role in “Knocked Up” and “This Is 40” — her signature moves seem to be rambling semi-coherently, and peeing with the door open — does not take the news well, melting down upon confronting Carly. Despite their differences, the two eventually bond over their antipathy for Mark and hatch a revenge scheme.

Kate Upton — who, The Post’s Sara Stewart reports, is “actually referred to at one point as ‘The Boobs’ ” — stars as another of Nikolaj Coster-Waldau’s character’s mistresses.Twentieth Century Fox

Mann and Diaz give it their all, and you can see how they might be a good comic team with better material, Mann a goofy foil to Diaz’s savvy urbanite (“Cry on the inside, like a winner!” she barks at a whimpering Kate).

But it’s frustrating to sit through a film in which one simple conversation would negate everything that transpires. Instead of confronting her mendacious spouse, Kate enlists Carly in a weeks-long campaign of subterfuge, employing such novel tactics as Nair in the shampoo bottle and laxatives in the whiskey.

Cassavetes also relies heavily on tired visual shorthand. We know Carly is a career woman because she wears all black and stilettos; we know Mark is an alpha male because he drives a sports car. We know Upton’s the eye candy because she’s running down the beach in slow motion, “Baywatch”-style.

Most egregiously, we can tell the gals are in spy mode because the “Mission: Impossible” theme is playing. (This is the second-worst musical cue, the first being “New York, New York” to signify a return to the city.)

And oh, the cringeworthy physical comedy, the preponderance of pratfalls. Most oddly, Diaz and Mann get into a shoving match that seems invented by an adolescent boy. (“What if they, like, bump boobs?”) It all comes to an ugly end for Coster-Waldau, whose last moments on-screen might charitably be considered an homage to Ed Rooney of “Ferris Bueller.”

Taylor Kinney, as Kate’s affable brother, is fine but has little to do besides look cute, and Don Johnson gets a couple of unremarkable scenes as Carly’s girl-crazy dad. Nicki Minaj is sort of delightful in a teensy role as Carly’s assistant. I’d rather have just followed her story.

On a side note, I’m curious about Cassavetes’ obsession with sunglasses — I noted about 12 different pairs on Mann alone. Who besides Lady Gaga changes shades that often? They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, so maybe it’s his way of covering up its total absence in this joyless affair.