The oldening of Ben Stiller, who directs, stars, and co-writes here, continues apace. It’s not just the sort-of sad, mostly doomed attempt to recapture (silly) lightning in a (men’s fragrance) bottle 15 years after his first story about the titular superdim supermodel. (Though the few times he manages it are among the film’s funnier moments, feather-light throwaways amid the zany cannonballs.) It’s not just the interest in religio-mythic heritage (Adam and Eve and Steve are integral to the plot) and the distaste for modernity (Benedict Cumberbatch shows up for a mild genderpanic bit.) It’s not just the anxiety about fatherhood and how his offspring will turn out if they’re not just like him. And it’s not just grumpiness about kids these days — a hyperironic young designer serves as the initial antagonist, before the true baddie (Will Ferrell) shouts his way back onto the scene. It’s the sense that we’ve seen all this before — done better, or at least, with sufficient energy and heart to obscure the flaws. Only Kristen Wiig, unrecognizable as a fashion maven with a unique gift for mangled pronunciation, makes the case for this as anything more than a fun vacation in Rome for Stiller, co-star Owen Wilson, and whichever of the endless parade of cameos got to shoot on location. (2016) — Matthew Lickona
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