MOVIE REVIEW

Miss March

Miss March
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Miss March There's a handful of original jokes in Miss March that suggest its creators have something new to add, like the outrageous rapper character somehow named Horsedick.mpg, or pretty much every line out of the mouth of the only female character given any personality. But Trevor Moore and Zach Cregger, who wrote, directed and star in this mess, seem to have largely assumed that a ton of toilet humor and a touch of absurdism will breathe new life into the tired sex road trip genre.

It's weird, because the two are both members of the sketch group The Whitest Kids U' Know, and you'd figure they'd be skilled at coming up with a variety of jokes to get them through a long series of sketches. But Miss March takes a few gags, most of them about sex or poop, and spreads them over 89 minutes that feel improbably long. It stretches the definition of comedy so far that I was horrified when someone I know and respect sat behind me during a screening and actually managed to laugh with this movie.

After a brief prologue that mostly introduces an obvious point-- boys like breasts-- we meet Eugene (Cregger) and Tucker (Moore) as a really unconvincing pair of teenagers (they're both about 28). Eugene is a goody-two-shoes who, along with his girlfriend Cindi (Raquel Alessi), lectures middle-schoolers about the virtues of saving yourself until marriage. Tucker is the type of movie cliche "wild guy" who wears Hawaiian shirts and bugs out his eyes a lot. On prom night Eugene is finally ready to do the deed with Cindi, but instead falls down a flight of stairs, landing him in a coma for four long years.

Tucker finally rouses Eugene from his coma by whacking him with a baseball bat (because, why not?) and tells the poor kid that the love of his life is now a Playboy bunny. A road trip obviously must ensue, both to "rescue" Cindi and help Tucker escape his angry girlfriend Candace (Molly Stanton) and her intimidating firefighter brother. Road trip hijinks include Eastern European lesbian hitchhikers, increasingly large hordes of vigilante firefighters, and adventures with their rapper buddy Horsedick.mpg (Craig Robinson), who lets them snag a ride on his tour bus all the way to the Playboy Mansion.

The fundamentally misogynistic assumption at the heart of this movie-- that Cindi actually needs to be rescued from her chosen profession-- isn't undone by the way the boys treat the Playboy bunnies once they get there, not to mention the "video hos" Horsedick introduces them to on the way there. Stanton makes a lot out of Candace's character, in all her righteous rage, but what Tucker does to her to piss her off so much is so gross, it immediately removes any likability the guy could have had. Sex romp comedies require a jovial, "boys will be boys" sweetness in order to not be completely disgusting, but Miss March caters so heavily to its juvenile audience it forgets the actual humans who should have been at the center of the story.

Hugh Hefner makes a funny cameo near the end as himself, his wooden acting actually a relief from Moore's incessant mugging and Cregger's utter lack of personality. And the movie ends somewhat enjoyably, with its loose ends tied up and the boys getting a happy ending neither of them deserve. Robinson is so likable he can't pull off a villain role, which makes Horsedick's eventual comeuppance feel almost cruel. Trust me: Tucker, one of our supposed heroes, deserves far worse treatment.

The sophomoric humor of Miss March isn't the problem; it's how the movie refuses to do anything new with it, and goes smugly about its business as if it has somehow become the heir apparent to Porky's. It's going to take a lot more talent than what Moore and Cregger have to make the sex romp feel original again.


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