Don’t be put off by the cable-movie title or the cheesy marketing that sells it as an oversexed cops and robbers flick. “After the Sunset” (or as I like to call it: “Night”) is a romantic comedy, a buddy picture, and a classy heist flick, all mixed up and served with umbrellas in a coconut shell.

Pierce Brosnan always looks happiest when he’s not burdened by 007’s increasingly ludicrous CGI stunts, and in “After the Sunset” the hirsute Irishman (also acting as producer) has a ball playing one half of a diamond-boosting couple. Mr. Brosnan’s partner in crime and romance, the charismatic and beautiful Salma Hayek, showed her considerable acting chops in the art-house hit “Frida,” but here reminds us she’s a glittering movie star deserving permanent placement on Hollywood’s A-list.

The movie introduces us to an FBI agent (Woody Harrelson) tormented by his inability to collar Mr. Brosnan. From the get-go, Mr. Harrelson’s perpetual humiliation at the hand of his nemesis is established: We meet him clutching a suitcase that contains a valuable diamond, all the while trapped in an armored car piloted remotely by Mr. Brosnan. The tension between the two main characters serves as the movies main anchor, recalling the chemistry in “Midnight Run.” Both Messrs. Brosnan and Harrelson cut impressively comedic figures.

Having wrenched the diamond from Mr. Harrelson’s protection, Mr. Brosnan and Ms. Hayek agree this will be their last score, and they book a trip to an unnamed Caribbean island to enjoy a lifetime of beaches, rum drinks, and lobster dinners. But – as the earliest scenes convey – paradise can get boring, and soon enough the former thieves start to long for the rush of breaking the law. This lust begins to spoil Ms. Hayek’s plans for domestic bliss and compels Mr. Brosnan to amuse himself picking the pockets of tubby tourists.

Shaking up the tedium is Mr. Harrelson, who arrives on the island, convinced that Mr. Brosnan is planning on stealing an immensely valuable diamond off a luxury cruiser. What follows is a conventional cat-and-mouse game that turns into a comedy of errors: Ms. Hayek becomes suspicious of Mr. Brosnan “falling off the wagon”; Mr. Harrelson stalks the couple, then strikes up an unlikely friendship with them.

Also entering the fray are Don Cheadle – a gangster who aspires to be mayor of the tiny island – and newcomer Rachael Harris, who plays a local cop bewitched by Mr. Harrelson’s bumbling yet loveable character. Ms. Harris is gorgeous and commanding, and her chemistry with Mr. Harrelson is palpable. As the countdown to the luxury liner’s disembarking begins, and as the two pairs of lovers fall in and out of love, you begin to see the playful heart underneath the heavily plotted movie.

Brett Ratner, who has directed big budget schlock like “Rush Hour” and “Red Dragon,” here conducts the proceedings coolly (though he too often relies on adolescent gay jokes in the otherwise funny scenes where Messrs. Harrelson and Brosnan are found sleeping in the same bed). The film offers characters who are likeable and believable – and these days, that’s as exotic as the Caribbean setting.

In many ways, “After the Sunset” recalls another Brosnan-produced flick, “The Thomas Crown Affair,” a popcorn movie with adult themes, non-scatological humor, and explosion-free action. Like “The Thomas Crown Affair,” “After the Sunset” probably won’t draw audiences hungry for Mr. Ratner’s usual cocktail of quick edits and car chases. But it’s bound to be a must-see DVD.

***

“Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason” is like freebasing pure, uncut Oprah Winfrey – a head rush of quirky girl power. Let’s just say I’m not the “target demo.” But like its predecessor, “The Edge of Reason” subverts the romantic comedy genre with an underdog heroine the audience can both look down on and up to. It also makes the idea that a chubby, neurotic basket case could be the object of desire by two of Hollywood’s favorite leading men almost plausible.

Played again by Renee Zellweger, Bridget is all tics, squints, pursed lips, and insecure id. She’s the James Bond of chick flicks, a franchise movie character always on the cusp of romantic disaster, who nevertheless manages to escape, heart intact. We’re reintroduced to her as she’s practically shoved out of a plane as part of a humiliating fluff piece for the morning news show she works for. Though she ends up parachuting into a pig pen, her panicky reluctance in jumping and the liberating glee she feels is an apt metaphor for the terrifying leap of trust involved in falling in love.

Bridget and her dour, straight-laced dreamboat Mr. Darcy (Colin Firth) are madly in love. She adores that her new beau folds his underwear before bed, gazes at him while he sleeps, and announces to anyone who’ll listen that her boyfriend is a human-rights lawyer. While Jones revels in the glow of new love, however, trouble comes in the form of her gossiping triad of chain-smoking friends, who encourage her to think that things are too good to be true. So she proceeds to act like a paranoid loon, stalking her boyfriend and doubting his fidelity. The doubt turns to suspicion, as she begins to feel out of place amongst Darcy’s well-heeled, attractive, and powerful friends.

As is the law in this genre, Girl then loses Boy. At this point another man from her past enters the picture – loutish ladies man Daniel Cleaver, played with equal parts slime and honey by Hugh Grant. The former lovers are assigned to star in a television travelogue together, and they embark for a sexually tense trip to Thailand. Some of the funniest moments include a scene where Bridget eats “magic mushrooms” and one where she leads a jail cell full of Thai women in a choreographed chorus of “Like a Virgin.”

Will she sleep with her old flame? Will she ever get back with Mr. Darcy? Will she finally find a stylish outfit that doesn’t accentuate her plump curves? Maybe, maybe, and maybe.

My own favorite scene in the movie is a reprise of the catfight between the deadly serious Messrs. Firth and Grant. Both these actors are able to balance new-age sensitivity with genuine masculinity – a good thing, since the legion of boyfriends who’ll be dragged to the film need men, not weepy emo boys, to identify with. And then there’s Ms. Zellwegger, whose squishy rubber face and willingness to bravely wear extra weight are almost special effects unto themselves. She’s a brilliant physical actress, who paints a complex character that straddles cartoon slapstick and heartbreaking sincerity.

And don’t worry: Girl gets Boy.