The plot centers on a nice, young couple, nice, that is, if you cut them some slack for their attempts to murder an 86-year-old lady who appears to mean well when she blasts "Hawaii Five-O" from her TV, calls in the landlord for a wealth of plumbing repairs, and takes advantage of their good-guys attitudes to send them on a slew of errands. What was it that finally turned Alex Rose (Ben Stiller) and his adorable wife Nancy Kendricks (Drew Barrymore), into no-more-nice-guy attitudes? Could they have snapped when Alex, always at home because he's a novelist, went on a shopping expedition with Mrs. Connelly (the spunky, 86-year-old Eileen Essel) only to find Mrs. Connelly counting the berries, lining up the tomatoes, and later, in a pharmacy, counting out the pills from her latest prescription? Or when Alex and Nancy, trying to make a baby, is spied upon by the old lady who is watching from their window? Perhaps when Mrs. Connelly held Nancy on the phone in her office, resulting in her botching a deadline and getting in real bad with her boss?

Whatever the case, Danny DeVito has a film with the signature of his first directorial effect, "Throw Momma from the Train," about a man played DeVito who is eager to get rid of her harridan of a mother. At times, you're bound to think of Joseph Kesselring's classic stage comedy, "Arsenic and Old Lace," about a group of charming ladies who murder their lonely tenants because they feel sorry for them and want to put them out of their misery. Nobody in DeVito's play is as insane as the brother of those women who thinks he's Teddy Roosevelt, but by the time Mrs. Connelly gets through with them, they're pretty much climbing the walls, willing even to hire a hit man to do away with their rent-contolled tenant who cannot otherwise be uprooted.

A look at the glorious apartment shared by the unhappy couple and the neighborhood they live in, filmed by Asastas Michos), should forever end anyone's belief that Brooklyn is somehow an out-of-it borough without the beauty of a single tree. "Duplex" is snapply, stylish, and bears an ironic ending that even Neil La Bute would applaud.