As an affable, generously proportioned lothario in The Tao Of Steve, Donal Logue stands out in part due to his sly wit and gentle, underdog charisma, qualities that secured him a much-deserved acting award at the Sundance Film Festival. But the main reason he seems like such a force of nature is that he's wearing a Hawaiian shirt in a sea of navy-blue blazers, serving as a flamboyant distraction from the crushing banality of the film's direction, supporting characters, and Ephron-o-matic plotting. An indie film only by virtue of its low budget and lousy photography—quite a feat, given the picturesque New Mexico setting—The Tao Of Steve refers to a romantic philosophy Logue has developed to score with women. Though he invokes names like Heidegger and Kierkegaard, Logue's method for achieving the unaffected cool of other Steves throughout history (McQueen, Austin, et al) is an ordinary game of turning on the charm and then playing hard to get. Logue is at his best when he's allowed to revel in perpetual bachelorhood, seducing weak-willed dates with hoary one-liners, smoking pot for breakfast, and generally letting himself go. Of course, the man-child has to drop his womanizing ways eventually, so the fun stops whenever prickly love interest Greer Goodman comes into frame as the one person impervious to his charms. Logue's character is an inspired (if gimmicky) creation, but first-time director Jenniphr Goodman, who co-wrote the script with sister Greer and Duncan North, limits him to the generic confines of a factory-pressed romantic comedy. Just when his behavior begins to edge into more daring comic extremes, she falls back on cloying shots of Logue teaching adorable kindergartners or bubbly pop-song montages to lighten the already wispy air. (Beware Eytan Mirsky's insidiously catchy title song.) Though designed as a vehicle for Logue's considerable gifts, The Tao Of Steve plays against the actor's strengths, making him labor for what little color isn't ultimately drained away.