With "The Tiger and the Snow," writer-director Roberto Benigni once again uses the backdrop of war to validate the resilience of the human spirit, but unlike his Oscar favorite "Life Is Beautiful," his latest tragicomedy, taking place in war-torn Baghdad, yields less beautiful results.

Released in his native Italy last year to boxoffice that didn't live up to expectations, "Tiger" certainly isn't lacking those Chaplin-esque/Fellini-esque qualities that worked to that acclaimed 1997 film's considerable advantage, but the sentiments feel recycled this time around.

Here we have Benigni playing the role of Attilio, a poet and university lecturer whose sleeping hours are taken up by recurring dreams of marriage to the lovely but unattainable Vittoria (his real-life wife and usual co-star Nicoletta Braschi), an author who, during his waking hours, finds herself being constantly bombarded (in some states they would call it stalking) with declarations of his undying love for her.

But Attilio's head-in-the-clouds daily existence receives a rude awakening in the form of a phone call from Fuad (Jean Reno), an Iraqi colleague, with news that Vittoria, who had returned to Baghdad with him to put the finishing touches on his biography, received a critical head wound during an Anglo-American bombing raid.

Despite all obstacles, Attilio somehow manages to find his way to Vittoria, who lies unconscious in a seriously depleted Iraqi hospital, refusing to abandon hope for his true beloved.

While the decision to set this love story in contemporary Iraq (played by Tunisia) would seem like a bold proposition, Benigni -- aside from making some benign observations about the folly of conflict -- has been careful not to let international politics intrude upon his meditation on the healing power of passion.

Perhaps a greater passage of time was needed to provide a more effective historical perspective, but "Tiger" has a bigger problem with a dramatic structure that sags conspicuously in the middle, never to completely correct itself.

The picture is not without its lyrically absurdist moments of pleasure, especially during Attilio's dream sequences, which feature a guest appearance by Tom Waits in the role of Tom Waits. His performance of the yearning, mournful "You Can Never Hold Back Spring," which he co-wrote with Kathleen Brennan especially for the film, is woven in and out of composer Nicola Piovani's typically lush score.