Cinema snobs did a proverbial double-take upon learning that filmmaker David Gordon Green would follow this year's aching, intimate "Snow Angels" with the studio stoner comedy "Pineapple Express," potentially heralding his lucrative yet apocalyptic segue from respected independent spirit to corporate whore. The good news, though, is that Green has made the transition easier on himself by aligning with producer Judd Apatow, a nouveau power-player who's earned enough critical and commercial clout to enable Green to bring some maverick sensibility to his big-budget multiplex debut. The bad news? There is no bad news; why do you have to be such a downer? You're totally harshing my mellow.

As you've no doubt gleaned from the notorious red-band trailer, "Pineapple Express" takes its name from a strain of marijuana so choice that drug dealer Saul Silver (James Franco) reaches for the ultimate comparative. "It's like God's vagina," the lovably dope-addled Saul swoons, encouraging customer Dale Denton (Seth Rogen) to breathe deep from a bag of the rare weed. Dale works as a process server ("Like a butler?" Saul wonders), which allows him the freedom to drive around and smoke pot all day. This seems like a priceless perk until the night that an indulging Dale witnesses an execution-style murder while preparing to subpoena the guy using the gun (Gary Cole, a/k/a "Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law").

"Pineapple Express" shifts into gear when Dale panics at the scene, leaving remnants of the titular flora that can be traced back to its exclusive area retailer. Dale is ultimately successful in explaining the imminent danger to the perpetually serene Saul, and the two go on the run, pausing often to smoke weed, contemplate nothing, play leapfrog in the woods, and smoke more weed. Saul and Dale eventually cobble together something that resembles a plan when they decide to seek help from the amiable Red (a killer Danny McBride), Saul's duplicitous, ambiguous supplier who fights dirty ("Time out, time out. Time in!"), especially in the skull-crunching presence of a Dustbuster.

Rogen and writing partner Evan Goldberg follow up their work on 2007's "Superbad" (let's ignore this spring's "Drillbit Taylor," which was pretty much "Superbad Junior") with a relentlessly funny script that tries to paint their stoners as real, compassionate people, if not minor saints in the case of Saul, whose weed dealings bankroll his bubbie's rest-home living. The lame, unnecessary subplot involving the shlubby 25-year-old Dale and his hot teenage girlfriend is woefully underdeveloped and then completely abandoned, but it does at least feature Nora Dunn and Ed Begley, Jr. as her parents, with neo-hippie Begley swearing as though he's getting paid per cuss.

Dale is actually the least interesting character in the film, and the generous Rogen cedes "Pineapple Express" to Franco, who finally makes good on the scruffy promise he showed in TV's late, great "Freaks and Geeks." After spending too many years in stoic pretty-boy roles - such as the obnoxiously pouty Harry Osborn in the "Spider-Man" franchise - Franco is a comedic revelation as Saul, with his infectious smile and sweet vulnerability. He sells drugs, sure, but when his feelings get hurt by his new best friend, he couldn't be more sad about the depressing state of humanity. Keep an eye out for Rosie Perez as "an adorable little cop" as well as Craig Robinson ("The Office") and recognizable indie mainstay Kevin Corrigan as bumbling hitmen, with Corrigan in particular beginning to channel the surfable hair and deadpan staccato of late-model Christopher Walken.

Danny McBride, who made his acting debut as comic relief in college classmate Green's 2003 romantic stunner "All the Real Girls," reportedly suggested Green as director on "Pineapple Express." Needless to say, Green does a complete 180-degree turnabout from his admittedly serious filmography, though his 70's vibe endures, which is perhaps attributable to longtime cinematographer Tim Orr, bathing his imagery in a washed-out, golden glow. The car-chase set piece also has a retro feel to it, low-tech and chatty as though Me-Decade aficionado Quentin Tarantino were behind the camera. But the Tarantino comparison doesn't end there, with casual, cartoony violence that's nearly off-putting in its brutality. This is the one area that the script and direction lose their way, the laid-back goofiness at odds with the massive firepower and escalating body count. Fortunately, however, some people are literally, hilariously indestructible.

Pineapple Express

(R), directed by David Gordon Green