Blimey, this is miserable.
From the sub-Austin Powers sight-gags to jokes about coprophilia with Jennifer Aniston (really), this depressingly vulgar bromance left me longing for the days when mainstream comedy had more to offer than a bunch of middle-aged men morosely playing with their dicks.
The set-up is lazy (our three antiheroes turn to 9 to 5-inspired kidnapping), the humour predictable, the sentimentality insufferable. Kevin Spacey and Jamie Foxx pick up “don’t blame me” cameo cheques; Christoph Waltz looks desperate to be out of there; Chris Pine just looks desperate. As always, the end-credits outtakes attest that the cast found it all hilarious. Good for them. Bad for us.
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