I'll admit to a few uncertain moments at the beginning of

"Ghost Town." I suspected a cheap knockoff of "Ghost"—the 1990 classic that, for me, defined a new, intelligent (after the goofiness of "Ghostbusters") interpretation of the spirit world.

"Ghost Town" begins suspiciously slapstick. For the record, this isn't a spine-tingly "Sixth Sense" sort of tale—it's more 21st century "Topper." For ghost fans with funny bones, this is a very good thing. I'm pretty sure "Ghost Town" will be heading to the Classics shelf. It's original, upbeat, poignant . . . overall, rather remarkable.

Our world, you see, is teeming with ghosts, hanging about with unfinished business. And did you know that every time you sneeze, it's because you've crossed paths with one of the dearly departed? Clever.

The problem is that all these lingering spirits can't be seen. So they wander in a frustrated limbo, hoping that one of the living might somehow glimpse them.

Enter Bertram Pincus (Ricky Gervais), a self-absorbed, utterly pretentious Manhattan dentist. Pincus is something of a peoplephobe—he's single, reclusive and resistant to even passing politeness.

But then, Bertram can suddenly see the dead. How he gains this reluctant ability is merely the first taste of an eventual banquet of hilarity.

Knowing Bertram is their solitary link to the living, the dead won't leave him alone. At the head of this line of protoplasmic pests is the recently departed Frank Herlihy (Greg Kinnear), who fears that his widow, Gwen, is about to marry the wrong guy. Gwen (Tea Lioni) happens to live in Bertram's apartment building, and Frank persuades him (okay, call it a haunting) to intervene.

All of this might sound somewhat droll if played for lowbrow laughs or cheap thrills. But "Ghost Town" isn't like that. Bertram is inhabited by the very witty Gervais—who needs no introduction if you're British, and who may soon need no introduction here in the New World.

In other words, Gervais is absolutely brilliant as the bland yet arrogant Bertram—but also utterly believable when he manages to catch Gwen's attention as her previously uptight neighbor.

Leoni, by the way, is likewise excellent. Underrated, in my opinion, as a cinematic presence, she's excellent in films like "Deep Impact," "Spanglish" and "You Kill Me"—underrated films as well, come to think of it. Just that one doesn't necessarily think of her as a comedic actress. That may change, too.

Her easygoing chemistry blends perfectly with Gervais' prickily aloofness. In fact, the film's a virtual chemical factory; everyone's having fun here—the dead, the living, bit player and star—and thus, so is the audience. Hmmm . . . perhaps it's dialogue and inspired living folk, not CGI, that makes a smart, sassy, wonderfully entertaining ghost film. Go figure. Go see it. Some folks have wanted to see De Niro and Pacino together again since their pretty good (not great) "Heat" back in '95. Apart, the two have a dozen or so genuine classics under their belts, and collaborative efforts did work for a couple of previous, high-octane A-listers, Newman and Redford, a generation before.

The problem is, "Righteous Kill" relies less on chemistry than it does on gimmickry. Either you're going to buy into it or not, but at its heart, "Righteous Kill" is a onetrick gimmick flick—director Jon Avnet wanting us to believe that what we see isn't what's real. So if you guess right and guess early, the flick may be a letdown.

No argument that these guys are fun to watch—even reduced to formulaic, squabbling, veteran police partners too long on the beat together. They're weary and cynical, but both retain their "it's this or die" mentality. And there's a killer on the loose—someone who's offing all the bad guys (remember Clint Eastwood's "Magnum Force"?). Oh, and maybe the killer's a cop.

Let's face it: "Gimmick" films usually aren't bound for greatness; although, speaking of Newman and Redford, they reunited for the mother lode of all gimmick flicks: "The Sting." That one just happened to work magnificently. However, "Righteous Kill" isn't "The Sting."

Interestingly, many mediocre films—or even those films that take a swipe at greatness and miss—tend to start off pretty well and then fizzle. "Righteous Kill" takes the opposite direction—slow to take off and then . . . it gets intriguing. Maybe it's not new terrain for buddy cop fans, maybe not even overtly clever. But I suspect that watching Robert De Niro and Al Pacino sleeping is a far better experience than, say, watching "Disaster Movie"—part of an entire gimmick genre. So you make the choice.