"Holy Smoke" is being touted as a sardonic twist on the old battle of the sexes, but it's neither as original nor witty as it thinks it is. Contests aren't very compelling when it's clear from Round 1 who has the upper hand, and from the moment Kate Winslet (most lately of "Hideous Kinky") struts on-screen, cutting a wide swath through crowded Indian streets as Neil Diamond's "Holy Holy" swells on the soundtrack, there isn't a doubt in the viewer's mind who will win the final showdown.

Winslet plays Ruth Barron, a lively Australian lass who, for reasons never fully explained, takes a jaunt to India and winds up undergoing an unexpected spiritual transformation. Ruth returns home thinking she's found the one true path; her friends and family think she's the victim of "some sort of freaky hypnotism." The truth lies somewhere in between, and it's a credit to the film that it leaves the mysteries of Ruth's newfound piety ambiguous. Because we don't see Ruth or her world before her life-changing journey, we're left to make our own decisions about what's really going on behind those steely blue eyes. One thing's for certain -- she's not the girl she used to be, and the folks at home are not happy.

Enter Harvey Keitel as P.J. Waters, the best deprogrammer in the religious-fanatic business. How Ruth's decidedly down-market, dog-grooming clan scrapes up an astronomical sum to bring the American to their remote little outback compound is never explained. Even more puzzling is P.J. himself. With his slick, overdyed locks, cowboy boots and porn star mustache, he hardly looks the part of a brilliant breaker of wills and restorer of souls. He looks instead like a sleazy, aging lech -- which is exactly what he turns out to be. That Ruth sees through him right away and promptly turns the tables isn't surprising. That nobody else has any doubts about the oily interventionist in their midst is a little more difficult to grasp.

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