Is singlehood the new cancer? That's what a recent spate of "What if...?" movies (see my double-header review of Me Myself I and Passion of Mind) seem to be saying, as does the occasional Bridget Jones's Diary. At least those examples have the decency to give us characters who wish they had significant others (all women, granted, suggesting that said flicks are cautionary tales of the biological clock rather than morality fables); Jack is nothing if not content with bachelorhood, especially within the lifestyle he's carved for himself. It's only when he has the gall to proclaim himself fortunate to a mystical gangsta (Don Cheadle) after an abortive convenience store robbery (I thought we might be spared Rush Hour director Brett Ratner's penchant for stereotype here, but alas, not even with the self-respecting Cheadle on board) that fate casts a glimpse of how the other half lives, smothering him (and us) in marriage propaganda.

"The Family Man is really about choices, and the fact that the choices you make will affect the rest of your life. Jack was a guy who was going through life thinking he had everything but never realized what he was missing was love." -Brett Ratner

"I do not want what I haven't got." -Sinéad O'Connor

Perhaps The Family Man would be more palatable if it played up--or even acknowledged--its female revenge fantasy aspects: Jack left college girlfriend Kate (Téa Leoni) at an airport thirteen years before and never looked back. He chose career over romance, and he will pay. Kate becomes his virtual wife; together, they have a virtual son and daughter (for that incongruous flourish: the girl senses that her real father has been replaced by Jack, a doppelgänger; if she's hypothetical to begin with, what purpose does this serve?), virtual neighbours, virtual in-laws--all with the apparent object of inuring Jack to the status quo. The Family Man's ulterior motive is almost as clear, though: punish Jack for breaking Kate's heart by attaching him umbilically to her and then cruelly severing the cord in the film's third act. Trouble is, this dramatically confused manifesto is also beautifully performed and thus a passable actor's showcase. And however dire the ending, the final shot is nice.

Universal's Collector's Edition DVD of The Family Man is a handsome package, though the studio's recent actions have taught us to wait for an Ultimate Edition. While surprisingly dim, the 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer renders the shifting tones in Dante Spinotti's cinematography with a great deal of subtlety. The occasional shimmer artifact is tolerable. Dolby Digital and DTS audio streams are both included, with 5.1 channels extraneous to the soundtrack's meagre demands.

The extras aplenty start with a 20-minute "Spotlight on Location" featurette ("The Family Man: The Making of a Film") that betrays the cast and crew's genuine fondness for the production. Next we have three separate commentaries featuring: Ratner and screenwriters David Diamond and David Weissman; producer Marc Abraham; and Danny Elfman, whose pearls of wisdom unfortunately bleed into his isolated score here and there. As for Ratner, he once again feels the need to imitate minorities (when explaining how the direction of a black valet extra went, Ratner breaks into what sounds like a botched Uncle Remus impersonation), and his co-commentators have little to contribute. Ditto Abraham: I just don't understand the need to segregate his reflections, although he's more generous with praise for, say, Spinotti, than Ratner is.

Nine deleted scenes failed to strengthen my grasp of the film's logic, but one of them, wherein Jack listens to his little girl play "Mary Had a Little Lamb" on the violin, is lovely and was needlessly excised. (It is depicted in a still within the disc's insert art.) Meanwhile, a section of six outtakes is very amusing for Cage's inability to look at co-star Jeremy Piven without giggling. A "Hi Jack!" montage goes on a bit too long, and Seal's music video for "This Could Be Heaven" was not up my alley--maybe that's because I'm a cold-hearted sumbitch, as the "Choose Your Fate" game concluded. (No apologies here that a "jigger of single malt" brings me greater joy than the "sound of a child's laughter.") Closing the deal on this DVD: a version of the opening sequence with "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" substituting for Elfman's overture; Orwellian "recommendations;" production notes; biographies; the trailer; and DVD-ROM access to other games, screensavers, wallpapers, and a script-to-screen feature.-Bill Chambers