Thinly plotted, over-actionated, and frankly preposterous, Mr. and Mrs. Smith is entertaining and even clever if you take it on its own terms. These would be: the premise is nonsense and the resolution is absurd. In between, you see the gorgeous Pitt and Jolie wrestle, argue, leap, dash, and shoot big guns at each other. Yet the movie offers two surprises. First, Brad Pitt can dance. And not only in the sense that he turns a decent tango with Jolie in a flashback scene, but also, more enchantingly, in his performances with inanimate objects, a la Fred Astaire or even Buster Keaton. Pitt leaps through hedges, flies over furniture, juggles a teacup in one scene and a large weapon in another.
Genre-mixing is the film's second good idea. Equally cocky and apprehensive, John and Jane pretend to be happily married (she buys dreadful draperies, he doesn't notice she's added peas to the dinner menu) even as they live separate lives (they hide their weapons stashes in gendered spaces, hers behind the oven, his in the basement).