Warning: another movie with Madonna and her muscles

In a telling moment midway through Guy Ritchie's staggeringly dreadful romance "Swept Away," we see Madonna, trapped on a deserted island with an Italian hunk, wringing out a wet sweater on the beach. Her sculpted biceps (miraculously free of sunburn) flex mightily as her fingers twist, and you start to fear for the poor garment — she seems to be trying to kill it. It's an impressive display, and a pointless one.

The sweater may well live another day, and maybe Ritchie's career will, too, if this movie vanishes as quickly as it should. As for Madonna — well, as always, she enunciates very clearly, and her personal trainer deserves much credit.

Based on Lina Wertmuller's controversial 1974 film, "Swept Away" purports to examine the question of how a woman could fall in love with a man who abuses and dominates her. Instead, it examines other questions. How much hair volumizer, for example, can one woman pack? How can two people spend two days stranded on a dinghy and yet look fresh as daisies? Do deserted Mediterranean islands have a Pottery Barn tucked away somewhere, the better to equip empty cabins with mood lighting? And how many sunsets-on-the-water shots can one movie hold?

The story begins with the far-too-wealthy Amber (Madonna), her husband (Bruce Greenwood) and two other witless couples embarking on a Mediterranean cruise, on which Amber whines because the fish isn't fresh, the gym is nonexistent, and the water's too wet. She taunts smoldering first mate Giuseppe (Adriano Giannini) for no particular reason; perhaps he's borrowed her hair-care products.

After more of this drama than seems possible to endure, Amber demands that Giuseppe take her on an excursion. Soon they're washed up on the aforementioned island, where I kept thinking Tom Hanks would show up and demonstrate how to make a fire. Giuseppe announces that the tables are turned, that she must call him "master" and that he's in charge now.

None of this is the slightest bit thought-provoking, because it's just so inept; even when Giuseppe physically attacks Amber, you're not the slightest bit worried for her (think what happened to that sweater).

Ultimately, love lessons are learned, some perfectly good jewelry gets tossed away, charades are played, and Madonna demonstrates push-ups and delivers, in a flat monotone, the immortal line, "I love you more than life itself. My husband's coming."

Consider yourself warned.

Moira Macdonald:206-464-2725 or mmacdonald@seattletimes.com.