Nope. Sorry. Not working for me this time. I’m not just going to let
Step Brothers fly because of the intensity of the goodwill fumes
emanating from Will Ferrell’s hair. Because he really is running on
fumes at this point, right? I can already tell you that the best part
of Step Brothers is the inevitable outtake reel on the DVD, when
we get to watch the squinty-eyed brilliance of Ferrell’s delivery on
lines like “Last week we put liquid paper on a bee. And it died.” You
might as well skip the movie.
I was legitimately interested in watching Step Brothers. John
C. Reilly is one of my favorite anyones anywhere. I love Jon Brion, who
did the music. The movie has all the right cameos (Rob Riggle, Ian
Roberts, Seth Rogen), seemingly the right director (Adam McKay), and
the right producer (Judd Apatow) to make something at least
watchable, if not classic.
But nope! The story of two curly-headed men-children, Reilly and
Ferrell, forced to live together when their aging parents get married,
Step Brothers is dull, ineptly paced, and lazy. There’s a funny
conceit about Ferrell’s singing voice (“I’ve been called the songbird
of my generation by people who’ve heard me”), and a few lines
guaranteed to delight a fraternity bro, hopefully not too near you
(“I’ve got a luscious V of hair going from my chest pubes down to my
ball fro!”). But listen: Unicorn jokes were played out two years ago.
My friends and I laughed at “mangina” in 11th grade. Come on,
dudes!
Yes. Technically it is funny when Will Ferrell,
specifically—ONLY Will Ferrell—says he’s going to put his
nutsack on John C. Reilly’s drum kit, and then he does, and then they
beat the shit out of each other. But I’m not going to let you win on a
technicality. Not this time. Not anymore.
