Going into my ninth year of opining in this space about what seems like a rotation of the same seven performers every week, I often worry about repeating myself and then being called out on it. (Admittedly, the notion that you'd remember something I tossed off a few years ago might be giving both of us too much credit.) So in the interest of transparency, I'd like to list some things I've written about one actor in particular: "limitless appeal" (9/7/11), "crack comedic timing" (3/25/09), "increasingly indispensable" (6/6/07), and, from my review of 2007's "Knocked Up," "Let's just say I would happily swallow his bathwater and leave it at that." Now, I do wish that his latest comedy were more worthy of him, but at the very least the wacky but inconsistent "Wanderlust" manages to showcase everything that is wonderful about Paul Rudd.

"Wanderlust" features a simple setup, one part road movie and one part fish-out-of-water comedy. When it becomes clear that they can no longer afford their West Village existence, a floundering couple named George and Linda (Rudd and Jennifer Aniston) head south in order to get back on their feet. Their initial plan is for George to work for his brother Rick (Ken Marino) in Atlanta, but when Rick proves to be too much of an insufferable ass, George and Linda return to Elysium, the rural Georgia bed-and-breakfast that they came across during the testy drive down. Elysium also happens to house a commune - sorry; "intentional community," whose groovy, laid-back vibe appeals to the high-strung and directionless pair, so George talks Linda into giving the countercultural way of life at Elysium a two-week trial run.

But like any lazy farce, "Wanderlust" cozies up to all the hippie clichés. Wearing a live lamb draped across his shoulders when we first meet him is the too-good-to-be-true Seth (the chameleonic Justin Theroux), a sexy messianic type with an eye for Linda. Also milling about Elysium are its burned-out founder (Alan Alda), a free-loving flower child (Malin Akerman, "Watchmen"), a wine-making nudist (the impressively naked Joe LoTruglio), and an angry feminist (Kathryn Hahn, who played Rudd's hilariously evil ex in "Our Idiot Brother"). Naturally, conflict arises among the Elysium dwellers in the form of a greedy land developer, but the more interesting friction occurs between George and Linda, the latter having thrown herself with gusto into their alternative situation while her husband longs for both a return to normalcy and rooms with doors.

Director David Wain made his debut behind the camera with 2001's now-cult-classic "Wet Hot American Summer" and spent time in front of it as part of both The State and Stella. (He appears in "Wanderlust" with Stella cohorts Michael Ian Black and Michael Showalter as smarmy TV personalities.) Wain's screenplay, co-written with former State-mate Marino, is too aimless to say anything meaningful; their broadly drawn characters are standard-issue movie bohemians, offering little in the way of subtlety or surprise. For better or for worse, Wain and Marino err on the side of too much when it comes to comedy; not all the jokes stick, but the ones that do are solid, veering between witty adult banter and literal toilet humor. And they have that uncanny ability to wring every last laugh out of a bit, guiding it from funny to awkward to surreal.

Luckily for the unpolished script, his cast is made up of ringers with a flair for improvisational comedy, especially Wain regular Kerri Kenney-Silver as a dippy earth mother and Jordan Peele ("MADtv") as an expectant father with few boundaries. As for Rudd and Aniston, "Wanderlust" is the sort of thing that they could do in their sleep. Aniston plays it relatively safe again (her much ballyhooed topless scene is conveniently pixelated), though her entrenched chemistry with Rudd helps demonstrate a warm marriage with its share of silent resentments. And though it would be refreshing to see Rudd stretch a bit as well, his lack of vanity allows him to excel in scenes like the one in which he tries to psych himself up for a hook-up with Akerman's Eva through a stream-of-consciousness, its goofiness exceeded only by its riotously unprintable smut.