I'm about to call this movie a laughable pile of biting-its-own-tail lunacy, but let's get one thing straight: I like films that aren't afraid to go nuts.

Think big-picture for a moment. If you're out on a first date and you see a movie that's dully decent, you'll sound dully decent. "So, did you like it?" "Yeah, it was all right." "Okay. Well, see you again never."

A crazy movie, on the other hand, gives both people endless fodder to be species-propagatingly interesting: "That movie was so insane it makes me want to cut off my own ear and ask it what it thought of whatever it is we just saw." "You're so dynamic! Let's make babies."

-- Local show times, theaters, trailer.

Splice is definitely the latter. Given the specific nature of its madness, however, I'm guessing first-daters everywhere will be less interested in creating the next generation of themselves than in going home alone to sit in the dark and frown.

Biochemists Adrien Brody and Sarah Polley have successfully combined the DNA of several species for their pharmaceutical research company. They're on the verge of splicing human DNA — a breakthrough that would revolutionize medicine — when the company shuts them down.

Polley convinces Brody to continue their research in secret. Together, they create a humanoid named Dren, a dangerous but highly intelligent creature who may destroy their careers and their relationship.

Splice has problems. Chief among these is the characters. Here is who you get to spend your time with: a crazy lady, a wussy wuss, and a screeching, plucked chicken that turns into a creepy girl-monster who looks like she crawled right out of the Uncanny Valley. If I had to choose one of the three to hang out with, I'd reluctantly go with Brody. At least I could tell him to shut up and stay in the trunk and be confident he wouldn't complain so long as I hosed in some fresh water once a day.

Then comes the "science." I don't need my science so hard it can only be cut with a lightsaber, but if a movie's gonna pretend to be set in the real world, I'd like some nod to plausibility. In Splice, earth-shattering discoveries are made literally overnight. You know how much I can accomplish in a night? Not choking to death on my own tongue. As for Dren, she grows from birth to young adulthood in the span of weeks.

There's no attempt to even hand-wave this stuff away, or mention what was spliced with what, or how the other spliced creatures spontaneously change sex. No rules! Hamburgers eating you! Cats splicing with dogs! The movie's internal logic consists of "whatever will be most convenient for the plot" (which, by the way, doesn't exactly race along with the speed of a cheetah crossbred with another cheetah). As it drifts further and further from believability — Polley's motivations are especially far-fetched and plot-convenient — it becomes increasingly silly and artificial.

The first two acts shift between boring, annoying, and perplexing. For pure entertainment, the third act redeems them.

The history of science is the history of creating things that will actually want to have sex with us, and Splice, it turns out, is no different. I give director/cowriter Vincenzo Natali fat props for taking the film in such an unsettling, Freudian, and freaky direction. Nothing washes a bad taste from your mouth like a heaping dollop of total insanity.

I've heard some people call Splice a black comedy. It's ridiculous, I'll give them that much. But I'm pretty sure the parts I was laughing at weren't the ones I was supposed to.

Grade: D+

* Ed blogs about movies, writing, and science fiction at http://edwardwrobertson.blogspot.com/ You can follow him on Twitter @edwrobertson