With puppy-dog eyes, a near-continuous pout, and a soft, breathy voice that evokes an underage porn star, Liv Tyler’s Jewel Valentine purrs variations of " You want me to be happy, don’t you? " to the men in her life. Of course, these suckers — Randy (Matt Dillon), a slightly dense bartender; his cousin Carl (Paul Reiser), an egomaniacal lawyer; and Detective Dehling (John Goodman), a pious widower — find themselves going to lengths far greater than Jewel’s skirts to make sure she is. She ensnares all three at the bar McCool’s, on a night in which she pretends to be abused by her boyfriend (Andrew Silverstein a/k/a Andrew Dice Clay) and later kills him.

Watching One Night at McCool’s I felt a bit like Liv Tyler. Director Harald Zwart and screenwriter Stan Seidel have tried hard to please the audience. The cast is excellent and eclectic (the Dice Man notwithstanding); the film’s framework, one story told from three different perspectives, is clever; and Johnny Cash leads the soundtrack. There are even a few inspired moments — as when Jewel, who obviously comes from a poor background, sprays Glade to set the mood for a romantic dinner. But most of the humor (a succession of jokes involving the Clapper; Reiser in bondage gear) is strained, reminding you of the difference between cool and McCool.