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If you survive through the closing credits, there's a special thank you to "everyone who ever had a dirty thought." You don't want to know the foul musings that crossed my mind once this thing had finished crawling to a close.
Movie 43 heralds Peter Farrelly's solo debut (brother Bobby must have read the script) and the only strand holding it all together is his ability to call in favors. Farrelly solicits the aid of eleven directorial cohorts, nine screenwriters, and a number of big name actors, all of whom are willing contributors to the ghastliness.
It's being hyped as "a series of interconnected short films," but given its open-ended, start-and-stop design -- fifteen one-joke scatological sex skits slapped together under the guise of a script pitch -- only a few of the segments could stand on their own, and even then they'd need a truss.
Hugh Jackman has testicles where his Adam's apple should be. Richard Gere attempts to finger-bang a robot. Halle Berry dips a giant, unsheathed latex breast into a vat of guacamole. A cartoon kitty uses Elizabeth Banks' face to mark its territory.
There is gag potential, just not in the comedic sense. Even when the set-up shows promise (Batman 'c'-blocks Robin in the Super Hero Speed Dating segment) the in-your-face execution chokes the life out of every payoff.
I laughed once: after informing her hubby that a "Pittsburgh platter" is just what their sex life needs, Anna Faris is seen at a backyard barbecue wearing an apron that reads "Bless This Dump."
Farrelly made the film as a goof after overhearing his son and a friend sing the praises of a nonexistent but wild-sounding internet production called Movie 43. (Insanity doesn't run in the Farrelly household, it hurtles.)
The MPAA should have awarded this a G-rating. After all, only a 7-year-old (and a pretty stupid one at that) would find this material even remotely amusing.
Reader Rating: Zero stars
If you survive through the closing credits, there's a special thank you to "everyone who ever had a dirty thought." You don't want to know the foul musings that crossed my mind once this thing had finished crawling to a close.
Movie 43 heralds Peter Farrelly's solo debut (brother Bobby must have read the script) and the only strand holding it all together is his ability to call in favors. Farrelly solicits the aid of eleven directorial cohorts, nine screenwriters, and a number of big name actors, all of whom are willing contributors to the ghastliness.
It's being hyped as "a series of interconnected short films," but given its open-ended, start-and-stop design -- fifteen one-joke scatological sex skits slapped together under the guise of a script pitch -- only a few of the segments could stand on their own, and even then they'd need a truss.
Hugh Jackman has testicles where his Adam's apple should be. Richard Gere attempts to finger-bang a robot. Halle Berry dips a giant, unsheathed latex breast into a vat of guacamole. A cartoon kitty uses Elizabeth Banks' face to mark its territory.
There is gag potential, just not in the comedic sense. Even when the set-up shows promise (Batman 'c'-blocks Robin in the Super Hero Speed Dating segment) the in-your-face execution chokes the life out of every payoff.
I laughed once: after informing her hubby that a "Pittsburgh platter" is just what their sex life needs, Anna Faris is seen at a backyard barbecue wearing an apron that reads "Bless This Dump."
Farrelly made the film as a goof after overhearing his son and a friend sing the praises of a nonexistent but wild-sounding internet production called Movie 43. (Insanity doesn't run in the Farrelly household, it hurtles.)
The MPAA should have awarded this a G-rating. After all, only a 7-year-old (and a pretty stupid one at that) would find this material even remotely amusing.
Reader Rating: Zero stars