If Hollywood has a better all-around craftsman working now than Clint Eastwood, I can’t think of who it is. Apprenticed in the waning days of the big studios and the assembly-line days of 1960s television, Eastwood learned to value efficiency and craft. As he moved from acting in films to making them, it seemed as if he would never escape being pigeonholed as an action filmmaker. But he persevered, pushing the envelopes of the genre he was stuck in whenever he could. As he nears 80, well past retirement age for most professions, he has to his recent credit one of the strongest bodies of work of any American filmmaker: Unforgiven, Flags of Our Fathers, Million Dollar Baby, Mystic River, Letters from Iwo Jima.

There’s been a sense of detached, faintly amused skepticism in much of Claude Chabrol’s work in recent years. The prolific, veteran French writer-director hasn’t seemed deeply or sharply engaged with his character’s often fraught situations for some time. He’s been regularly turning out films whose intensity often barely registers on the affect meter. In such films as La Demoisselle D’Honneur and L’Ivresse Du Pouvoir, he’s seemed to observe rather ordinary people involved in rather mundane pursuits who tumble into serious legal and moral conflicts without becoming notably changed or leaving filmgoers with any obvious insights.

You just know that Judd Apatow wishes he’d gotten this idea first: I certainly wish he had, because he almost certainly would have done a better job with it than Kevin Smith does here. Seth Rogan and Elizabeth Banks are the title characters, slackers and childhood friends who platonically share an apartment in a cruddy section of Pittsburgh. That’s right, Pittsburgh—New Jersey’s most loyal filmmaker has crossed the state line into Pennsylvania, though I can’t imagine why he bothered. (Hey, Kevin, if you’re scouting new locations, Buffalo is clearly right up your alley.)