When "Bewitched" was on television from 1964 to '72, the premise of a witch married to a befuddled mortal was so durable that even after the original actor playing the husband was replaced without explanation, the series carried on for three years without missing a beat.

Now that "Bewitched" has been adapted for the big screen, it is the premise, not the husband, that has been jettisoned. And what the TV show couldn't screw up over eight seasons, two Darrins and what boiled down to one story told 200 times, the movie contrives to make irritating in less than two hours.

Any picture that makes you yearn for the dramatic work of Dick Sargent has got problems.

What this "Bewitched" has going for it is an attractive witch with a disarming twitch, played by Nicole Kidman. After winning an Oscar for her spectacular schnozz in "The Hours," it is hardly surprising that Kidman would be drawn to another cartilaginous character. But the story of Isabel Bigelow - a witch who wants to stop casting spells and be just like everybody else - never seeks to engage us by the head or the heart, only by the nose.

In this, "Bewitched" succeeds on at least one level: It stinks.

It was fated to be fetid the moment it floated into the romantic comedy trough of writer-director Nora Ephron, who co-conspired with her sister Delia on the script. Nora Ephron has parlayed the 1993 Tom Hanks-Meg Ryan hit, "Sleepless in Seattle," into a directing career.

In 1994, she unleashed "Mixed Nuts," a romantic comedy about a suicide-prevention hot line; that was followed by "Michael" (1996), a romantic comedy about an angel with bad hygiene; then "You've Got Mail" (1998), e-mail disguised as romantic comedy; and in 2000, the lamentable "Lucky Numbers" was Ephron's last directing job. I've seen garden slugs leave a better trail than that.That she has been allowed to have a career of this duration is both a miracle and a curse. Ephron clearly doesn't understand the charm of the original series, which starred Elizabeth Montgomery as Samantha Stephens, and has transformed it into a story about Hollywood phonies attempting to remake the old show. As the movie wears on, this reveals Ephron's disdain for both the source material and for television as an entertainment medium. Pretty much everyone involved in it is portrayed as a craven idiot.Will Ferrell plays ham actor Jack Wyatt, whose last movie flopped so badly that he's been reduced to playing Darrin in a remake of "Bewitched." Jack has used his remaining clout to assure that Samantha is played by an unknown, so he can dominate the show. But Ferrell makes Jack such a fatuous airhead that when he spots Isabel in a bookstore, wiggling her nose before sneezing, instead of admiring Kidman's nose-wiggling skills, I found myself wondering what a dolt like Jack would be doing in a bookstore.Ferrell overwhelms the character, then the movie, so that in the end it suffers from the same misguided imbalance that is the crux of the plot. Ferrell just played the TV news variant of Jack Wyatt in "Anchorman," and his character is such a complete ass here that it makes Isabel's growing affection for him not just hard to accept but completely unbelievable. As Jack grows less appealing, the movie becomes more dispiriting.Isabel discovers Jack's treachery when he and his agent (Jason Schwartzman) discuss their scheme only a few feet from where she's standing one day. Although the scene itself is clumsy, Isabel's discovery that she's being played for a fool stiffens her backbone, not to mention her broomstick. For the first time the movie begins to show some promise. And some premise.But after casting a spell on Jack, she wimps out, and so does the movie, rewinding itself to the point at which it began to get funny. As the movie begins its lifeless replay, the twitching sensation you begin to feel isn't your nose. It's your feet.