“While the film’s got many laughs – and, beware, full-frontal male nudity! – the finale’s a letdown.”
This comes to us from Thelma Adams, longtime US Weekly critic, on the latest addition to the Apatow family, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, which opens Friday. Am I the only one who finds it a little odd to find a warning about a penis shot occupying any space at all in a capsule review lasting about 80 words (7.5% of the review for those counting)? The cautionary note seems especially strange coming from a publication that self-describes as offering “Celebrity news, gossip, and photos, information on fashion and beauty”—what’s better and more worthy of chitchat than a celeb’s unhinged dong writ large on the big screen? Our MPAA may be puritanical, but I think audiences are generally less afraid, especially when genitalia is played for a laugh (see: Ben Stiller’s contorted balls in There’s Something About Mary, or Malin Akerman’s untamed, pierced bush in The Heartbreak Kid).
Still, a critic looking at a collection of films that, as a whole, is terribly, terribly afraid of all those icky, floppy, weird parts we all carry around in our crotches (the “money” shot of Knocked Up was a horrible reminder of the ills that stem from boy bits touching girl bits) might find a stray dick worthy of some notice. I’m not sure whose wiener Forgetting Sarah Marshall will treat us to, but I’d expect to see Jason Segal hastily exiting an uncomfortable situation in the buff before the movie’s finished. (please not Jonah Hil….please not Jonah Hill….)
Not that the film’s insistent ubiquitous marketing campaign is going to leave any potential audience member unsnared anway, but Thelma, even though you’ve phrased it as a warning, I think we all know that your clever insertion of an oh-so-subtly phallic exclamation point suggests you want your readers to be aware (rrr…) rather than beware.