Who the hell are Zach Cregger and Trevor Moore? Did two guys who have a television show that debuted on a music video network seriously get the backing to make a feature length film? Is Hugh Hefner allowing anyone access to the Playboy Mansion these days? Does Craig Robinson really get paid that little for doing “The Office”? I have all these questions and just the one answer … I guess so, yes. Miss March, a movie that brings back the use of bodily fluids as a running gag to the big screen, hits theatres in America with wide release. I am stunned, completely stunned. These guys are my heroes because as bad as this film is, people will go see it. I’m sure they have a following from “The Whitest Kids U Know” and most horny males love the idea of Playboy, so despite the R-rating, this thing will probably make back its, I’m pretty sure, low budget and more. We may be looking at the newest comedy writers/producers in the world of Hollywood “ca-ching”. Two kids under thirty riding high on infantile jokes and stilted acting—it’s exactly what America’s youth loves today. For some reason Scary Movie-esque nonsense brings in more bucks than Apatow brand more often than not genius. Bravo boys for seeing the truth and going for it. Mediocrity sells big.
With a runtime under 90 minutes you can’t be too disappointed upon completion. I mean you wanted to see it right? You volunteered your time, so there must have been something to draw you in. It’s not like I didn’t laugh, I’m not going to lie in order to prove my point. There are a couple genuinely funny moments, and even the gross-out fecal and urinary moments have to bring a smile to your face, if not for the absurdity of what you are seeing than for the contagious nature of a packed room laughing. Peer pressure is a bitch. Sometimes you know you shouldn’t laugh, you don’t want to laugh, but oh my does the sound emanate anyways. Veteran Robinson definitely helps in this way, because the guy is great. Being a formidable presence, his ability to act embarrassed and weak works with his big man attitude. Like most of the film, his role of Horsedick.mpeg is very over the top, but it ends up succeeding. That is until the revelation at the end, just a tacked on brain-fart the boys probably laughed hysterically about when they came up with it during a drunken script session. Sorry, it wasn’t that funny. But that girl flying out the window? That never gets old no matter how many times you watch the trailer.
Don’t let me forget to mention “Reno 911’s” Cedric Yarbrough, the only other guy I had ever seen before in the entire movie. His deadpan is pitch-perfect, especially playing the doctor that has been watching over our protagonist for the last four years while he was in a coma. Oh, I guess I should at least gloss over the plot then if I bring up plot points. Cregger’s Eugene is laid up in the hospital because, after prom, before he was about to lose his virginity to his girlfriend, he allows the asinine Tucker, (directing cohort Moore), to get him drunk, causing him to fall down the stairs and have all sorts of things fall on his head. (By the way, Robinson’s mention of this incident is pretty funny later on; so nonchalant, so funny). Awakened by said friend four years later—hey, they’re homies … “lock it”—the two discover that Eugene’s ex has posed in Playboy after leading a high school life of abstinence and good wholesome girl next door sensibilities, (boy has that term mutated into its exact opposite these days thanks to Hef). The quest begins, a cross-country trip to find the girl that he loved. Will he bask in the glory of finding her after so long, or will he despise her for what became of her life, something that appears eerily similar to his brother’s life choices, a story that is far and away the best part of the film? Abstinence Now for sure.
So, in order to fill up space while the boys maneuver over to LA and the Bunny House, we get gag after gag, strung together loosely to make the semblance of a film. I liked the epilepsy gag, especially the Tucker character’s utter ignorance to what that condition entails, loved the brother story as mentioned, found the lesbian thread so fantasy-like absurd that it brought a smile, and enjoyed the stereotyped firemen’s quest for blood. I’m patting myself on the back now for finding that many things to call out as enjoyable amongst the mess that fills in the blanks. I’ll hand it to Cregger and Moore, they have a good rapport, they understand the comedy they are going for, and at times they seem to have the chops to pull it off, unfortunately “at times” just isn’t enough. Too often do they seem to be giving line readings, Moore saying something like “well how did everything end up with you and Cindi?” with so much inflection you know he is only saying it so the audience can find out. The dialogue is clunky and the performers not quite up to snuff, besides Robinson. Even Hef is awkward as he attempts to make fun of himself.
The jokes seem to repeat themselves so often that you begin to recall how the laugh was weak ten minutes ago when they did the gag the first time, so how would it work better now? Raquel Alessi’s Cindi is attractive and fun in her abundance of good girl façade early, and Molly Stanton’s Candance, the girl unlucky enough to call herself Tucker’s girlfriend, is a lot of fun. From her first appearance to the stabbing to the manhunt, her role is a standout. Cregger and Moore wrote her as probably the most three-dimensional person in the film; it’s a shame that they left so little for themselves. I understand idiocy brings the chuckles, but when you make it so present in the leads, the two people onscreen almost every second of the film, it gets a tad obnoxious and old. It doesn’t matter what I say, though, you’ll either go see Miss March or not. Me hating on it probably just makes you want to see it more.
Miss March 2/10 | ★
 Zach Cregger and Trevor Moore. Photo Credit: Frank Masi
 Craig Robinson. Photo Credit: Frank Masi
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