The over-the-top silliness of the movie only functioned to further stir my memories of the happy, silly times we used to have: debaucherously arguing over whether or not someone was a lesbian right in front of them, drinking Brother’s completely out of Gin on those $3 G & T nights then screaming at strangers until 4 in the morning, and of course that time your friend slapped me right across the fucking mouth and then we spent the night in the park, unable to find our way home until the break of morn over the softly moonlit sky. As such, the movie left me forlorn and wanting for many things – one of which includes at least a consistent French accent for Steve Martin and Kevin Kline. It would have been nice if they had both the same accent and kept it throughout the entire film. But, alas, they did not, much as you did not keep me, a young man in the prime of his life, seeking only to make his lover happy.

I was also dismayed at the lack of Edwards-esque subtleties displayed in the direction of the film. It was as if they reached inside his very essence and ripped his still-beating heart out of his torso and tossed it aside for what they perceived to be “greener” and, perhaps, more broadly sillier pastures. I, for one, never saw this idea coming, and when I realized what was happening, I felt a load as heavy as stone and a bone-chilling cold come onto my ever-burdened shoulders. I asked myself, “Why, God and Mr. Steve Martin, why?!?!” Sadly, they, like you, offered no response. I will try to avoid this movie for the rest of my life, for nothing will come close to the original, just as… ah, woe is me…

Rating: 4 out of 10 broken lovers

Quoth Nancy-boy: “It assembles all the elements for a laugh-out-loud comedy, but it can’t make them fly.”

In the theater where I saw Wedding Crashers [official site] people were laughing so hard they were crying and gasping for breath. Maybe it’s because they’re able to lose their inhibitions and think trolling nuptial celebrations for chicks is cool…maybe they’re not an asexual troll like Roger Ebert.

This my friends, is what a movie should be. Two funny guys (Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn) surrounded by

• Hot chicks
• Hot chicks showing their fun-bags
• Acceptable S&M (not the really scary ball-gag type)
• Touch football with horrific violence
• Casual sex
• Dwight Yoakam telling his soon-to-be-ex-wife to kiss his left nut (you’ll remember him as “Doyle Hargraves” from Slingblade)
• The occasional F-Bomb
• Christopher Walken (always appropriate)
• Boats (even the faggy type are ok)
• Excessive imbibing of hard liquor
• Guys punching each other in the face
• Bad guys kicking the hero in the nads so you really hate him
• Trickery
• Slovenly male behavior
• Deception

The only real flaw might be that no one dies at the hands of an Italian mobster, but hey, even Godfather had its flaws. I can’t think of any off the top of my head, but you know what I mean.

Look, I can understand why Roger Ebert is bitter. Since 1972 he hadn’t seen his own twig and berries. So he goes off and loses a bunch of weight only to discover that his man-pole looks like a maggot wearing a turtle-neck sweater. You’d be angry too.