What can a Vermonter possibly do, when confronted with the AIG bonus scandal, global economic meltdown, and the uniquely dirty pleasure that is mud season?

Escape to the movies, of course.

And, in the “art mirrors life” department, there is no finer new movie than director Tony Gilroy’s “Duplicity.” This fun if flawed film marks a revival of the old “couples caper” genre (think Hepburn and Grant) and features two of Hollywood’s most bankable stars – Julia Roberts and Clive Owen – surrounded by a scene-stealing supporting cast.

In a nutshell – Ray Koval (Owen) and Claire Stenwick (Roberts) are two retired intelligence agents who’ve transferred their skills to the world of corporate espionage. The game – competing (or are they cooperating?) to steal secret data for a new and stunningly profitable product (a substance that cures male pattern baldness – no joke) while playing off two rival corporations against one another. Veteran actors Paul Giamatti (of “John Adams” fame) and Tom Wilkinson (“Michael Collins”) fill out the film as the antagonistic CEOs of the two rival corporations, and the movie’s opening, featuring a “slow mo” airport tarmac scene in which the two execs try to beat the snot out of each other – is (almost) worth the price of admission.

Back to the game. The film is told in a series of flashbacks shot in exotic locations – Dubai, London, Rome, New York, and, um, Cleveland – moments in which corporate spies Ray and Claire rendezvous for logistical strategizing and sexual refueling. The fun comes when we quickly learn that neither one of them entirely trusts the other to hold to their agreed-upon evolving plan. Each rendezvous scene is a variation on the same theme, in which the two characters repeat lines of similar banter, verbally joust with one another, and then hop in the sack…or don’t. Are they working together? Will one double-cross the other? How will the story end?

There are two problems with the film, one small, the other not so much. The first comes in the film’s climax – after close to two hours of “cat and mouse” fun, the script throws the audience a giant curve ball – which sucks the wind out of the story faster than you can say “AIG bailout scam.” I won’t ruin it for you here, other than to say, in art as well as life, one corporation emerges as the ultimate victor uber alles.

The second and much bigger problem is the almost complete lack of frisson between Roberts and Owen, odd for such two physically attractive and gifted actors. Roberts, who looks a bit tired on camera, goes through the motions of playing the part of the sexy double agent, but never really lights up the screen, even when engaged in amorous acts with Mr. Owen. There is a moment at film’s midpoint when, in one very brief scene, she slips into “Mystic Pizza/Pretty Woman” mode – bright eyed, with her dazzling smile, and I was reminded of just how winsome a character she can play. And anyone who has seen “Erin Brokovich” knows how good a dramatic actress she can be. The problem here seems to be direction – she never really “inhabits” her character, and fifteen minutes into the film, I gave up on her.

Owen, meanwhile, looks good in a suit and designer sunglasses, but delivers most of his lines with the assuredness of someone who has just walked onto the set from a somewhat frustrating chess match not sure if he won or not. Maybe this is the point in a caper film, but the results, when combined with Ms. Roberts’ lack of engagement, are, well, disengaging.

As a story that illuminates the high-stakes cutthroat world of corporate espionage, “Duplicity” has tremendous potential, and there are moments of celluloid magic, scenes involving supporting actors Giamatti and Wilkinson. But as a “couples caper” film, it feels flat.

Maybe, in part, this is because in art, as well in real life, duplicitous corporations are having their way with us at the moment, and it doesn’t feel all that good.

“Trainspotting” director Danny Boyle’s new film, “Slumdog Millionaire,” just won the 2008 Oscar for best picture, and with good reason. Set in the slums of modern India, “Slumdog Millionaire” is a frenetic tour de force –rhythmic, fast-paced, visually arresting, and ultimately hopeful.

“I knew the answers,” says the film’s protagonist, Indian Muslim Jamal Malik, whom we see being tortured in the film’s opening moments. Turns out, he’s just won a big pile of rupees on “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire.” one of India’s hottest TV game shows. All good, right? Nope. Those in authority (including the game show host) think he cheated his way to the answers, and punish him to determine how he knows what he knows.

In the film, Jamal’s life story is told in a series of flashbacks touching on seminal moments from his impoverished life in the Indian slums. We see a young Jamal plunge himself into a pile of outhouse waste, watch as his mother is killed in the Hindu-on-Muslim violence of a local riot, view the forced maiming and blinding of young poor Indian kids to attract much-needed rupees by opportunistic adults, and witness human conflagration and abject poverty of the most gut-wrenching sort. We also see a chance encounter between Jamal and a young girl, Lakita, blossom into a friendship, and then romance – in true Hollywood/ Bollywood fashion.

How “Slumdog” plays out is worth the watching, and I won’t give anything away here. As a director, Boyle’s genius is not to preach, but rather to rub together the most disturbing dialectical sets of images (rich versus poor, Western versus Indian, Hindu versus Muslim, kid versus adult) with the most uplifting glimpses of what could be, given a bit of chance, no small measure of luck, and the star-crossed circumstances of fate. In doing so, Boyle personalizes one individual’s chance “rags to raja” story, mixes it with a whole heap of wrinkles, twists and turns thrown in for good measure, and paints a captivating and visually arresting film.

And there are a deeper cross-cultural fissures here, too, captured in the fierce and ongoing global online debates about the movie and its significance. When “Slumdog Millionaire” won the Oscar last month for Best Picture, “residents of Mumbai’s slums celebrated,” explains one online pundit. “In contrast, Indian activists and intellectuals who have decried the movie for its portrayal of poverty and violence and its alleged exploitation of child actors and slum dwellers lamented the victory, claiming that the movie is a flawed Western interpretation of Mumbai.” “This claim, however,” the writer concludes, “overlooks both the film’s basic faithfulness to the novel by Indian diplomat Vikas Swarup on which it is based, and Bollywood’s own tradition of uplifting stories.”

Fair enough.

And for American audiences, the film is sure to continue the debate about the roots and nature of global poverty and the excesses of this thing called “globalization” in its current incarnation. Ultimately, “Slumdog Millionaire” is a story that strikes multiple chords with American audiences at a time of economic meltdown and tremendous uncertainty about our future.