There's not much that can be said about this steaming pile of offal that hasn't already been said in the REAL reviews here (I don't believe any of the glowing reviews for a second; they were either written by paid shills from the studio or the actors themselves). The dialog is incoherent, brainless, nauseating (especially when Rod is explaining how his father died--"his teeth were ground down to powder and his face exploded through the back of his skull"--or when he's talking to the girl he loves about how he wants to see her "crap yourself". Unf--- ingbelieveable) and as stupid as the alleged "jokes" are, the director doesn't know when to end them and they just go on and on and on. The only person in this sh!tpile who doesn't come across as being severely brain-damaged is Isla Fisher, who doesn't have much to do except look cute and sexy, and she does that adequately. There's only one even remotely funny line in this dud, when a woman gives Rod some money and says "Get the f--k off my porch". There's no phrase that describes this movie better than that.
Other than that, this verminous puddle of excrement has nothing-- absolutely NOTHING--going for it.
Other than that, this verminous puddle of excrement has nothing-- absolutely NOTHING--going for it.