I would like to think Clive Owen and I share a certain bond. We love dogs, we rant about privileged drivers who can’t use their signals, and we unload thousands of rounds into baby-killing criminals on a daily basis. Well, we’re almost the same. But after a hefty dose of “Shoot ‘Em Up,” I am totally prepared to bust a cap in the name of justice.

Not only does Owen’s Mr. Smith save the life of a newborn, only to become the target of a string of endless conspiracy-ridden crime networks led by Mr. Hertz (Paul Giamatti), he squats a spacious warehouse, grows hydroponic carrots and turns a mediocre film genre into an epic (albeit gloriously violent and equally cartoonish) episode of Bugs Bunny.

The result is quite possibly the most ludicrous film of 2007. The plot might have been lost under a hail of gunfire, but with a film as attractive as this, does it even matter?

There’s something about a presidential-hopeful senator’s gun control bill and possible links to American firearm manufacturers (or something along those lines – it was probably blown up at some point, anyway).

Audiences will go for the so-violent-it’s-funny action, but the real fun is in the film’s star players. Owen and Giamatti, the ultimate hero and villain, respectively, who spit campy obscenities and handle firearms with enough savvy to make any gun-toting NRA cardholder squirm.

Giamatti’s Elmer Fudd-esque Hertz plays the hitman for quite a few payroll-padders and uses his FBI brains to chase the elusive and equally cunning Smith.

Hertz flaunts his family man appeal with a crooked grin, while the smug and handsome Smith is straight-faced behind rugged stubble and humble Everyman appeal. Smith finds a mother figure in super-Italian DQ (Monica Bellucci), his favorite prostitute, whose clients get their kink from her unusual maternal methods.

So it’s Owen, Bellucci and the miraculously unharmed and well-nourished baby “Oliver,” born within seconds of the film’s opening, who turn the landscape into an urban playground for testosterone-fueled American ultra-violence.

But in writer-director Michael Davis’ playground, everything is fair game. Davis (who penned 1994’s forgotten gem “Double Dragon”) takes the Hong Kong approach to the action movie and lays the gore on hard – but with serious style and immaculate choreography.

From skydiving gunfights and broken-fingered gun-slinging to sex-scenes-turned-shootouts, Davis suspends any resemblance of reality.

But how can you deny the pleasure of such unparalleled firearm theatrics?

Alex Woodward can be reached at [email protected].