In the alternate universe of

“The Invention of Lying” the concept of deceit doesn’t exist. People go about their daily lives without a fib, a feint, a pretense or an outright lie. A nice place to live? Well, advertising is bland, movies are little more than historical CSPAN sessions and creativity is rare. If the guy standing next to you smells, you tell him. If your wife gains a little weight and asks you—well, you’re a dead man.

Mark Bellison (Ricky Gervais) is bad at his job. He’s about to be fired, and everyone in the office constantly reminds him of his impending fate. His blind date (Jennifer Garner) is both beautiful and intelligent, and she unflinchingly informs him that she’s “out of his league.” Not only are folks brutally honest in Mark’s world, they’re also enthusiastically informative.

One day, out of the blue, the unfathomable happens. Mark tells a lie. People believe him. Stunned, he tells another, then another. Even the most grandiose of whoppers is treated as an earnest, if outrageous, truth. Life opens to him like never before.

On paper, “The Invention of Lying” could have been another “Groundhog Day”—original and inventive, able to steer in directions few films can. Politics, religion, ethics, social consciousness, biting parody—a world of smart and snarky possibilities was there for the taking.

But too quickly “Lying” turns from wicked promise to one-trick pony, getting bogged down in the superficiality of personal appearance. Because Mark’s not very attractive, he’s a loser, unworthy of love or lofty goals or happiness. Somehow “truth” and “beauty” become inexplicably entwined, and the film stalls there, sometimes funny, sometimes not, but never reaching the lofty heights within its grasp. It shoots for satire but somehow never really scores.

Mark becomes wealthy and quite famous. He pretends to discover God, or a semblance thereof, and very quickly we “get it”— the film is equating fabrication with our notion of God. I’m all for questioning the blind faith (and social morass) of our fathers, but this concept’s so in-your-face that I was somewhat taken aback. One should always whisper satire, never shout it.

I do like Ricky Gervais’ talents—I think his previous effort, “Ghost Town,” is one of last year’s more intelligent comedies. But “Lying” could have been so much more. With a little more effort and polish, I think it could have been one of those few films elegantly telling a relevant story through its winks and elbow prods—like a pill in sugar coating, good for us and fun to swallow, too.