Since digital video allows filmmakers to shoot as much footage as they like for relatively little money, DV features have become the cinematic equivalent of a four-track home recorder, democratizing the process while encouraging a degree of conceptual laziness. And just as DIY albums, at their worst, ask listeners to accept half-formed ideas and throwaway songs in lieu of studio refinements, DV films have a tendency to be "loose" and "improvisational," which are too often euphemisms for "lax" and "misshapen." Even a veteran like German director Doris Dörrie—whose 1985 breakthrough Men… was considered a novelty simply for being a comedy from Germany—can find it difficult to resist the format's temptation to shoot more and plan less. Nearly every problem with her new Enlightenment Guaranteed, an otherwise warm and fitfully charming fish-out-of-water comedy, can be attributed to DV, from its haggard appearance to its "camcorder" gimmickry to its sloppy, backloaded structure. With a little discipline, Dörrie might have carved the raw materials into a more consistently funny and affecting story about brotherhood, culture clash, and the unexpected utility of Eastern philosophy. Using their real first names for extra verisimilitude, Uwe Ochsenknecht and Gustav-Peter Wöhler star as mismatched siblings, one a stern and practical-minded family man and the other a Feng Shui consultant who endorses a range of catch-all New Age solutions. On the eve of Wöhler's long-planned retreat to a Buddhist monastery in Japan, Ochsenknecht sobs miserably over his wife and children walking out on him and begs his brother to let him tag along on his journey. During their first night in Tokyo—by far the film's funniest sequence—the two blow all their money on dinner and drinks, get lost on their way back to the hotel, and wind up sleeping in cardboard boxes. Bereft of material things, they're now accidentally prepared for the intense rigors of life at the monastery, which affect them in predictably ironic ways. The actors have a strong, prickly chemistry together, especially during that long night in Tokyo, when they wage a futile battle against pay phones, ATMs, mini-casinos, and other bleeping Japanese gadgets that underline their foreign oafishness. But once they get to the monastery, Enlightenment Guaranteed loses its sense of humor and rhythm, settling into dull, redundant routines and preachy Zen nuggets as the men find themselves. Whatever observations Dörrie collects about her characters are effectively doubled up on the camcorder Ochsenknecht carries with him on the trip, creating an echo effect that leaves little to interpretation. Like a lot of home movies, much of her footage is disposable.