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.

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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.