For reasons that still feel mysterious to me, I laughed my head off at 2012's really rotten Adam Sandler comedy, That's My Boy. I realize intellectually that it's an awful film. But I enjoyed myself way too much to pretend later that I hadn't.
When it fires on all cylinders, this all-star sketch comedy collection -- another bad creation where the ratio of funny to not-funny runs at about 2:1 -- will also make you laugh a lot. I just can't really describe the funniest moments here. They're disgusting and occasionally evil, a collection of five-minute filth-blasts which, in their own nasty way, are also the absolutely correct response to dullness like Valentine's Day and New Year's Eve. Those films pose as something other than garbage when they're really just the all-star rom-com equivalent of a pair of really boring monkeys throwing their feces at you. Well, this one does the same thing, but honestly. And without a lazy it's-a-holiday story to hold any of it together. And with real feces.
The cast (Dennis Quaid, Greg Kinnear, Common, Will Sasso, Seth MacFarlane, Hugh Jackman, Kate Winslet, Liev Schreiber, Naomi Watts, Anna Faris, Chris Pratt, J.B. Smoove, Kieran Culkin, Emma Stone, Richard Gere, Kate Bosworth, Jack McBrayer, Justin Long, Jason Sudeikis, Uma Thurman, Bobby Cannavale, Kristen Bell, John Hodgman, Leslie Bibb, Katrina Bowden, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Chloe Grace Moretz, Patrick Warburton, Gerard Butler, Seann William Scott, Johnny Knoxville, Stephen Merchant, Josh Duhamel, Elizabeth Banks, Terrence Howard, Halle Berry and Snooki) proves that they're down for whatever. And that's good for them because their career achievement clip reel will now, for all time, involve movie moments that are, more often than not, both sexually and scatologically wrong. It begins with Hugh Jackman as a man with a scrotum on his neck teabagging a baby, glides past Gerard Butler (in what may be his greatest film role after Coriolanus) as twin leprechauns dismembered by Johnny Knoxville and Seann William Scott and, over the closing credits, ends with Josh Duhamel engaging in bestiality with a sexually self-abusive cartoon cat. And that's the stuff I can tell you about.
To fully enjoy yourself from start to finish, it will help if you've got the sense of humor of a middle-school-aged sociopath or, at least, are the kind of person for whom nothing is offensive so that when you're waiting for the bad sketches to end you're not both bored and in despair for all of humanity. For the rest of you, I suggest eventually watching it on your phone. On a tiny screen it might not feel so overwhelmingly depraved, you can skip to the next sketch when you realize you've come to one of the duds and, best of all, nobody ever has to know what's in your earbuds. But seriously, even on a tiny screen, you'll never get the image of that cat out of your head.