Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Miss March

Posted on Wed, Mar 18, 2009 at 4:00 AM

Critic's Pick Miss March
Director: Zach Cregger, Trevor Moore
Screenwriter: Zach Cregger, Trevor Moore
Cast: Zach Cregger, Trevor Moore, Raquel Alessi, Molly Stanton, Craig Robinson, Holly Hindman
Release Date: 2009-03-18
Rated: R
Genre: Film

Don’t worry, the trailers for Miss March (even the fuck-filled red-band version) make the movie look a lot worse than it actually is. Normally the apparent shittiness of an R-rated raunch comedy released mid-March isn’t worth much concern, but Miss March is the first film written and directed by its stars Zach Cregger and Trevor Moore, the two most recognizable dudes from IFC’s phenomenally warped sketch show The Whitest Kids U Know.

The ads and the plot — Eugene (Cregger) has an accident on prom night which puts him in a four-year coma and prevents him from losing his virginity to his girlfriend, and by the time he recovers, she’s moved away and become a Playboy centerfold, so his best friend Tucker convinces him to track her down at the Playboy Mansion — make Miss March look like a third-rate Sex Drive knock-off, but the trailers are (kind of) misleading. Most of the preview’s lame jokes (the Hugh Hefner cameo, the lesbian chick picking a lock with her tongue) still fall flat, and the storyline still seems like it was conceived over a single joint in a high-school locker room, but many of the film’s better gags are either too bizarre or too vulgar for mass marketing. (And the best, Robinson’s MC named Horsedick Dot Mpeg, for example, are a combination of both.)

It’s quickly apparent that Cregger and Moore aren’t yet confident in their ability to adapt their disturbed sense of humor from fragmented two-minute sketches to a feature-length film. The character arcs and narrative structure were apparently copied directly from Write Movies the Soulless Studio Way, and if it weren’t for the inspired insanity between forced plot points, Miss March would be a direct-to-video American Pie sequel. Cregger and Moore hit most of the required road-trip sex-comedy stops (though the films is surprisingly light on substance abuse and bare boobs) and even learn an Important Lesson, but in between, they’re hunted by a seizure-prone girlfriend and ax-happy firefighters in search of a blood sacrifice. Fans of the show will be relieved, fans of sub-standard dick comedy will most likely be confused, and fans of neither are justified missing Miss March altogether.

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