Remember “The Out of Towners”? Back in 1970, Midwesterners George and Gwen Kellerman (Jack Lemmon, Sandy Dennis) flew to the Big Apple and were immediately hit with cosmopolitan culture shock: A canceled hotel reservation left them on the streets, and a garbage strike, muggers, con men and other urban woes confronted them at every step.

Yet, while the Kellermans bobbed like two corks in a turbulent sea of New York atrocities, the film’s comedic overtones were never lost; the Kellermans never seemed threatened, just frustrated. We didn’t know them very well either; what we learned, we gleaned as their waking nightmare unfolded.

Phil and Claire Foster (Steve Carell, Tina Fey) are a nice suburban couple out at a trendy Manhattan restaurant for a change of pace. But “Date Night” decides that we should glimpse the Fosters’ normal dreary routines, their friends whose marriages are disintegrating . . . things I suspect we don’t really need to know before embarking upon a similar encounter of cosmopolitan catastrophe.

With talents such as Carell and Fey, director Shawn Levy should have trusted us to immediate empathize with these strangers in a strange land. Hey, we already know life’s a bitch.

Because Phil and Claire don’t have dinner reservations, they daringly snag the table of the “noshow” Tripplehorns, and thus begins a night of mistaken identity. Turns out the Tripplehorns aren’t nice people, and the Fosters are suddenly running for their lives.

I like Carell and I like Fey. I even like them as Phil and Claire, but once the shooting begins in earnest, I wondered (even as the Fosters were stoically keeping up the funny gags), okay, what if one of them gets hit? Who’s laughing now?

Meaning, sure it’s okay to spoof on suburban couples in danger (à la the Kellermans), but once the danger seems too real—well, it tends to squelch the chuckles.

And that’s my problem—two funny people torn between the despair of being married with children and the fear of getting whacked by the numerous villains they encounter.

I wish the film had chosen a less realistic terror (the “Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist” version of all-night insanity, for instance). Instead, “Date Night” relies on a cheap-shot wannabe action-adventure approach— limiting not only the talents of Carell and Fey but the overall yuk factor as well. Too bad, because I think the duo could have easily pulled it off without ducking even once.

OMG! WTH? Kiddies, don’t let your parents know about this one! Not since “Sin City” has Hollywood gone out on such a quivering, clever, decisively original limb to deliver (yet another) graphic novel to the big screen. Be forewarned however; this flick isn’t for everyone.

“Kick-Ass” is kinda like “Kill Bill” meets “Batman” meets . . . well, meets something completely different. It’s part superhero parody, part crime/action thriller, part cheeky geek revenge flick—and pure adrenaline rush. It’s playful, bawdy and brutal.

Don’t let the trailer fool you. “Kick-Ass” is being touted as a cute, gently PG-ish action-adventure, the quest for revenge of a loner tired of giving up his milk money to school bullies. And, for about 10 minutes, that’s exactly what it is.

Aaron Johnson plays Dave Lizewski, a meek high school geek who dons a green, goofylooking superhero costume. (He looks a little like a malnourished Toad Man.) He’s not very good at it—being a superhero, that is— until one fortuitous encounter lands him on YouTube, unwittingly starring in a video that goes uber-viral. Suddenly, America’s infatuated with the mysterious Kick-Ass. (Think Spider-Man but with fewer letters.)

Hovering on the precipice of America’s lunatic fringe are the Macreadys (a surprisingly adroit Nicolas Cage and Chloe Moretz), a father-daughter team of what you might call earnest urban militants. The Macreadys take up the sudden superhero craze as Big Daddy and Hit Girl. And these superheroes are loaded for bear.

The diabolical duo begin where the bewildered KickAss never dreamed of venturing—fighting organized crime in an amazing display of brutality and prowess. The bloodbath begins. (Have you seen Starz’ “Spartacus”? Yeah, that kind of blood flow.)

Is the violence gratuitous? Well, yes and no. Based on a graphic novel whose prime audience is adolescent males weaned on “Grand Theft Auto” and “Hitman,” “Kick-Ass” is geared to those already overstimulated testosterone levels, and it’s likely to become an instant classic for our next generation of Young Republicans.

In terms of Hollywood fare, it’s adventurous and boldly original. However, i f you cringe at the thought of Batman or Spider-Man, please stay away. I f you think Tarantino i s the new Hitchcock (“Kick-Ass” was directed with a deft Tarantinoesque hand by Matthew Vaughn), then I suspect you’ll see “Kick-Ass” repeatedly, then stand in line for the DVD.