The adorably dweeby Jay Baruchel—who starred in Tropic Thunder and was at the centre of TV’s Undeclared, Judd Apatow’s now-forgotten middle child to Freaks & Geeks’ pot-head older brother—plays a gangly, dorky twenty-something airport security guard unlucky in love. But it’s not all his fault: an assortment of characters, many drawn paper-thin—his loutish and vaguely inbred friends and extended family—have been more hindrance than help.
So when a completely bland blond, Molly (Alice Eve, Starter for 10), comes through his queue, he doesn’t exactly jump at the chance to wave his (metal-detecting) wand up and down her body—a body which, incidentally, his friends rate as “a hard ten,” making her firmly unattainable, you see, because he’s a lowly “five.” A series of wholly predictable and juvenile gross-out gags—which more than fills the film’s quota of jokes based in or around the dissemination of bodily fluids—follows.
The film was directed by someone called Jim Field Smith—whose only previous credits are three almost unheard-of comedic shorts—and written by the two guys who penned Sex Drive—whose title probably says more than enough—and, remarkably, the considerably more entertaining Hot Tub Time Machine, reviewed in this issue. Outside of the commendable job Baruchel does in rising above an unashamedly appalling script, the characters are moronic at best, and grossly offensive at worst.
In the end, it’s hard not to come to the conclusion presented to you in the erroneously-first-person title: she is out of his “league.”