I sensed trouble the moment the picture opened: with a police officer — banging down the door of a violent felon accused of beating up a hooker — turning to the victim and cracking wise about a pair of Chanel loafers. Perhaps twenty-five years ago, this “my gay dads” comedy about a cooking show host (Steve Coogan) and his lover/producer (Paul Rudd) forced to reckon with the unexpected arrival of the former’s teenage grandson... I was going to say it might have played better, but on second thought, even then it would have come off as limp-wristed, stereotypical satire. The two heterosexual leads try their hardest and that’s the problem: everything about the relationship is forced, the action pat, and the outcome foreseeable even before the opening credits roll. The once considerable Andrew Fleming (Bad Dreams, The Craft, Dick) writes and directs with an eye cast in the direction of a weekly sitcom, not serious character comedy. (2018) — Scott Marks
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