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Judy Thorburn's Movie Reviews

Miss March

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Miss March – Cross This One Off Your Calendar

I know it is a bit early, but I already have a contender for the worst film of the year. Only time will tell if another stinker comes along to topple and replace it. Yet, as it stands for now, Miss March holds that dis-honorable distinction.

It is more than obvious, that the writing/directing team of Zach Cregger and Trevor Moore (of TV’s the Whitest Kids U Know) have attempted to follow in the footsteps of Judd Apatow, the guy behind most of those popular silly, moronic, fratboy comedies that attract predominately male teens and twenty something audiences.  But in this, their feature film debut in which they have cast themselves as stars, the duo have made a miserable misstep with a film that isn’t the least bit original or funny.  To be blunt, Miss March is pure garbage, the smelly disgusting type that reeks of stupid, vulgar, misogynistic, sexist humor.   Not only is the content an insult to anyone with a smidgeon of intelligence, its depiction of females is demeaning and offensive to all women. I sat through the so called comedy biting my lip and couldn’t wait for this abomination to be over.

The basic plot goes like this. Eugene (Cregger) a high school nerd, has promised to give up his virginity and have sex with his pretty girlfriend Cindi (Raquel Alessi, Ghost Rider) on the night of their prom.  Things don’t quite work out that way after Eugene’s best friend, the ever horny and idiotic Tucker (Moore, who bares a resemblance to Jim Carrey, but lacks his talent) gets him drunk and he winds up opening up the wrong door and falling down the steps of a basement where heavy toolboxes crash land on his head, leaving him in a coma.  Fast forward four years. Seated at Eugene’s bedside in the hospital is Tucker, who decides to wake Eugene up by hitting him in the face with a baseball bat. In what universe, would that not be grounds for arrest?

Talk about rude awakening!  Eugene soon learns his father had abandoned him and moved to Florida.  Making matters worse, his sweetheart Cindi has also moved on. After conveniently discovering a picture of her as the centerfold in the March issue of Playboy Magazine, the boys take off on a road trip to the Playboy mansion for Hugh Hefner’s annual party that takes place (conveniently) in just 3 days with the hope of Eugene finding Cindi and winning her back.

Meanwhile, Tucker’s girlfriend Candace (Molly Stanton) is on the hunt for him. Why? Because earlier, Tucker inadvertently caused Candace to have an epileptic attack while she was performing oral sex (you get the picture) on him.   To get Candace to release her grip, Tucker stabbed her repeatedly in the face, and now she is out for revenge, along with the help of her psycho, fireman brother (Geoff Meed).

On their cross country venture to the Playboy mansion, Eugene and Tucker run into a few outrageous (and totally improbable) situations that include sleazy characters such as a rapper with the lewd name of Horsedick.mpeg (Craig Robinson, Pineapple Express), and a pair of oversexed Russian lesbians who can’t keep their hands off each other.  Playboy founder, Hugh Heftner, appears as himself in a cameo that has him giving advice to Tucker about true love.  That’s a joke, as if this man, who made his fortune objectifying women, has a clue.

Most of the jokes are of the gross out variety. Potty humor and tasteless sight gags involving uncontrolled bowel movements, and a dog urinating in someone’s drink are a few examples of the embarrassingly bad attempts to garner laughter, but instead made me cringe.

I have already spent too much of my precious time wasted on this bad film, a mess from start to finish. In the end the movie doesn’t even offer any sort of sweet message.  Heed my advice.   Cross Miss March off your calendar and avoid this intolerable road trip.

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