What starts out as a smart, sassy comedy about infertility gets bogged down in its own potty humour, ultimately becoming a dull caper romp that's impossible to care about. This is a real shame since the cast is clearly up for something more sophisticated and knowing, and the filmmakers seem to have some amusing ideas up their sleeves.
The film opens as Audrey and Tommy (Munn and Schneider) are celebrating their third anniversary and decide to start a family. When Audrey doesn't get pregnant, tests show that Tommy's low sperm count is to blame, due presumably to too many groin injuries while goofing around with his chucklehead pals (Heffernan and Faxon). But since he had donated to a sperm bank years earlier, he decides to make a withdrawal, only to discover that the last batch has already been sold. So he and his friends hire a crazy-eyed Indian criminal (Chandrasekhar) to orchestrate a heist.
Munn and Schneider are gifted actors who create an engaging sense of chemistry in the feisty first act, grounding the comedy in real marital issues that are riotously funny because of the unexpected frankness of their discussions about sex. But as this starts to drift into a series of one-note gags about semen and genitals, our patience wavers. And then the caper kicks in, and it's so contrived and stupid that we lose all interest in the film and the characters. We may still care about Audrey and Tommy, but the situation they get into is just as idiotic as the people around them.
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Steve Zahn headlines the directorial debut of Joe Dirt screenwriter Fred Wolf, playing Peter Gaulke, the stoner son of a famous Crocodile Hunter-like dad whose show Strange Wilderness was once a mega-hit. After dad died and Peter took over, things went downhill, with Peter turning in episodes punctuated by absurd narration and questionable nature... unless you count girls flashing their breasts in the shrubs behind the office building "nature." Peter defends the segment, of course, claiming them to be "natives."
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This time out, we get American Pie alum Chris Klein and the saucy Heather Graham in what is undoubtedly the crudest film we will ever see. That is, at least until Tom Green takes center stage in Freddy Got Fingered later this year.
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A truer thing has never been said. It amazes me the filmmakers left that line in the film. Perhaps they were feeling self-reflective.
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