-By Ethan Alter

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Ever since Arnold Schwarzenegger terrorized a classroom of five-year-olds in 1990's Kindergarten Cop, it's become de rigueur for other cinematic strongmen to try to muscle in on the family-film market. But of all the heavyweight action heroes who have traded violent fight scenes for heart-tugging moments of family bonding, only Dwayne Johnson (the artist formerly known as The Rock) seems entirely at ease in PG-rated surroundings. In movies like The Game Plan, Race to Witch Mountain and now Tooth Fairy, Johnson establishes a comfortable rapport with his younger co-stars that's difficult to fake. It doesn't hurt that he feels little to no shame about sending up his macho screen image; in Tooth Fairy, for example, he prances about in a pink tutu with the same enthusiasm that he displayed punching out bad guys in The Rundown.

Johnson's compulsively likeable presence is the saving grace of Tooth Fairy, almost diverting attention away from the film's muddled script (which is credited to five writers) and made-for-TV mise-en-scène. He'll certainly be the main draw for families who should turn up in decent numbers opening weekend driven by fond memories of The Game Plan as well as a general dearth of fresh options for kid-friendly romps.

Fusing elements of The Santa Clause and The Mighty Ducks, Tooth Fairy casts Johnson as hockey player Derek Thompson, a once-promising phenom who has been mired in minor-league obscurity for years. Nicknamed "The Tooth Fairy" for his signature move—a brutal body-check that always costs his opponent a tooth—Derek spends more time in the penalty box than on the ice. Having given up on his dream of stardom long ago, he feels little guilt about shattering the hopes of others, even his girlfriend's young daughter who still believes in tiny fairies that steal into children's rooms in the middle of the night exchanging lost teeth for dollar bills. For daring to suggest that these enamel-obsessed sprites don't exist, Derek is charged with "disseminating disbelief" and promptly summoned to tooth fairy headquarters, where he's outfitted with wings and a uniform and ordered to spend two weeks collecting kiddie teeth.

Although Derek's misadventures as a tooth fairy are supposed to be the main draw here, those sequences largely fall flat due to the film's reliance on predictable pratfalls and the lack of strong comic chemistry between Johnson and supporting players like Stephen Merchant (co-creator of "The Office") and Billy Crystal. Surprisingly, Tooth Fairy is most successful when it keeps its reluctant hero grounded in the real world, wrestling with his own disappointments or attempting to bond with his girlfriend's other child, a surly teenager with genuine musical talent but no self-confidence. This storyline isn't any less predictable than the rest of the movie, but Johnson's way with child actors makes it palatable. Thanks to Johnson, watching Tooth Fairy isn't as painful as dental surgery, but it's also not an experience you'll want to repeat.