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Throughout the year, I see a whole lot of movies. I see some good movies, some bad movies, and a bunch of stuff in between. Even during the darkest moments, I try to keep an open mind…to take it all in stride, finding some sort of twisted enjoyment in the most ridiculous of movies. But, on rare occasions, I see a movie that’s so bad, it leaves me dumbfounded—and perhaps slightly traumatized. Afterwards, I don’t even want to rush right back to my computer and write a delightfully scathing review. I’d rather just go home, curl up in a ball, and drink it all away. But, alas, it’s my job to write the review and protect you, dear readers, from wasting your hard-earned money on the same excruciating experience. It’s my job to warn you about movies like Miss March.
Eugene (Zach Cregger) once had the perfect life—and a loving girlfriend, Cindi (Raquel Alessi), who even shared his views on the importance of abstinence. Then, on prom night, the two decided that it was time to go all the way. In preparation, Eugene did a few shots. Then, instead of going upstairs and becoming a man, he stumbled down the stairs and slipped into a four-year coma.
The next thing Eugene knows, he’s in a hospital bed, and his best friend, Tucker (Trevor Moore), is hitting him with a baseball bat. The whole thing is a bit overwhelming for Eugene—but it gets even worse after Tucker shows him Cindi’s picture in the latest issue of Playboy. Soon, the two friends are breaking out of the hospital and heading out to the Playboy mansion to confront Cindi. But if they’re going to make it in time for the magazine’s annual anniversary party, they’ll have to outrun the crazy, vengeful firemen who are out to get Tucker.
Miss March is the most crass and pointless comedy I’ve seen in years. Maybe even ever. It’s not that it’s so crude that it’s edgy and cool, nor is it so disturbing that it’s actually hilarious. It’s just idiotic and tasteless. Throughout the endless muddle of tactless humor and gross-out gags, the only time when I was even tempted to laugh was during Hugh Hefner’s attempt at a heartwarming pep-talk.
While Hef is a pretty unconvincing actor, though, that’s understandable. After all, he’s a magazine mogul—not an actor. Moore, however, is actually supposed to be an actor—yet he makes Hef look like Sir Laurence Olivier in comparison. Granted, Moore’s character is irritating, and he’s forced to deliver a whole bunch of ridiculous dialogue, but he has no one to blame but himself—because he co-wrote the screenplay. He also co-directed the film, so he can’t really blame his unnatural, bug-eyed performance on bad directing, either.
Though it tries to be an irreverently wacky road-trip movie, Miss March simply isn’t funny. Most of its jokes are built on baffling concepts, like “Firemen are crazy!” and “Epilepsy is retarded!” There’s also a running joke about a character’s name, which wasn’t even funny the first time—making the next 350 times or so increasingly painful.
So unless you find excrement and epilepsy absolutely hilarious, I highly recommend saving yourself time, money, and valuable brain cells by steering clear of this tacky, humorless mess.
