"We're not so young anymore . . . "

Rating: 1/10 (20 July 2005)

. . . Thus muses Owen Wilson to his pal Vince Vaughn in their new movie, *Wedding Crashers*. To which I say: Oh yeah? -- then act like it! But to expect maturity from the likes of Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn would be pointless, considering that both of them have not exactly behaved like adults in any of their previous films. (Well O.K., Wilson was interesting in Wes Anderson's *Bottle Rocket*, and Vaughn had a pretty good part as a creepy step-dad in that Travolta vehicle from several years ago, but 1 out of, like, 20 for each actor is a lousy scorecard.)
Let it be said at once that Generation X is aptly named. If Wilson and Vaughn are the best comedy-team my generation can come up with, then we rightly deserve to be nameless. These guys make one long for Martin and Lewis (this is not meant to be complimentary). I spent a good portion of the movie wondering about the state of Wilson's hair: what's up with that, anyway? Why does he persist in looking like a late-Seventies stoner in movie after movie after movie? Is it supposed to be his "trademark", or something? As for his pal Vaughn, he seems to be literally EATING in every scene of this film, and boy, it shows: this is one individual who is, to a painfully obvious degree, bloated with the corrupting amenities of easy living (i.e., the typical life of an undisciplined Hollywood star). He has become a fat oaf who turns in lazy, blubbery performances. Why is this guy a star, again? Was it that whole "you're money" thing?
Screw these guys and their lousy films. I mean, really. (I was dragged to see *Wedding Crashers*; I certainly didn't seek it out.) What kills me is that I kept reading all these laudatory reviews -- from professional movie critics who are doubtless GenXers themselves -- about this movie's "sharp, edgy wit" before I actually saw the damned thing. This is merely a case of the tribe protecting its own. Hey look, if your idea of sharp, edgy wit includes the spectacle of Vince Vaughn getting yerked off under a dinner table, then you'll love *Wedding Crashers*. And you'll die laughing when Jane Seymour gets her vanilla-pudding-bags squeezed by Owen Wilson. If those bits don't it for you, perhaps the repugnant wisecracks about Eleanor Roosevelt's sexuality (!) will tickle your ribs. Wow, what a scream.
And why wasn't I surprised to see A Certain Former SNL Alumnus make a boorish, unfunny cameo at the end of the movie? (Hint: he's the one who screams a lot, which, I am told, is supposed to be hilarious.) Look, people: it's time to declare a moratorium on the Wilson/Vaughn/Stiller/Ferrell/Rudd Nexus of Bad Comedy. Who's with me? The current going-rate of 3 comedies per year featuring any or all of the above-mentioned performers is literally destroying American civilization. It must be stopped.
1 star out of 10.