Directed by: Peter Segal. My real review is printed here, and maybe a quick read of that will make this review all the quicker (so we can all spend as little time as possible thinking about this turd). If the name Peter Segal doesn’t jump out at you, then a quick look at his filmography actually goes a long way to accounting for what the hell went wrong with this movie. I expected this much from Stallone, who has made a career of under-thought, overly masculinist action films. DeNiro’s participation in all of this is more baffling until you remember that he has spent the last few decades undermining his own mythical status as a pillar in modern American cinema with a string of regrettable mid-brow comedies, from Analyze This to Meet the Parents (and plenty of sequels). Of course, to be fair, a look at his filmography also balances out my opinion of him—of the few films of his in the last 20 years I’ve even seen, I liked The Good Shepherd enough that I saw it twice. But it still feels like this movie is a new low point, and an unnecessary one at that. This movie is at best a completely unfunny waste of time—the funniest parts in the film are a few wisecracks from Alan Arkin, whose foul-mouthed geriatric boxing trainer does essentially the same thing in this role as his foul-mouthed grandfather in Little Miss Sunshine. At worst, this is another numbskull, lowest-common-denominator, misogynist, homophobic, piece of neanderthal garbage masquerading as “no-nonsense, egalitarian, blue-collar, inclusive” broad comedy. The only way to embrace this as an inclusive, all-American comedy is to want to be included in the lowest form of idiocy available in our culture and to have a terrible sense of humour. I could imagine someone liking this movie if they haven’t seen any movies before whatsoever, or if they’ve just been beat over the head 100 times.