Directed by: Dan Mazer. Dear reader, I wish this wasn’t the first offering to give you in this fair year 2016, but circumstances prevailed. I started, but did not finish, several “actually good” things before this one came across my desk for review for a real publication, so here we are. I feel like I should clear up a couple of minor things before I start. First of all, this film is not the same as the Jackass movie Bad Grandpa (although it is basically the same stunted, weed-smoking, douchebag teenage boy in the mid-2000’s sense of humour, and I would know because I was one of those), and second of all, that movie poster I found making a parody of The Graduate is literally the most intelligent thing connected with this movie. My thoughts about this turd of a movie are pretty well wrapped up in the real review posted above, and my thoughts on DeNiro’s output in the 21st century are something I’d like to save for a special post right after this one, so I haven’t got much else to add for this particular review. Zac Efron, poor fool, has fallen pretty hard since I last saw him, poetically for my first real review for The Paperboy. In that film, he was still in the shadow of being the hunky eye-candy, appearing casually in his briefs when he wasn’t delivering some top-notch drama. There, he was surrounded by incredible talent at the top of their game—McConaughey, Cusack, Kidman, and David Oyelowo—and little Zac proved that he could keep up with them just fine. I thought a sharp career lay ahead for him. Here, he’s running around naked, the straight man in another lifeless, mainstream, numbskull, American college-sex movie. The only things that set this movie apart are the fact that there’s almost as much objectification of Zac Efron’s body as any woman in the movie, and the built-in uneasiness that comes from DeNiro engaging in exaggerated sex talk with Aubrey Plaza, who must be at least 40 years his junior. But even there, I don’t want to make too much of it. Coming of age as I did in the late-90’s to mid-2000’s, I’ve seen my fair share of low-brow college humour movies: the American Pies, the Jackasses, the Vince Vaughn, the Ryan Reynolds, all that shit. I saw Dude, Where’s My Car? in the theatre—I’m basically a scholar of this particular strain of crap movie, god help me. These movies are all the same, and they are all predicated on the same “sense of humour”—rigid, old-fashioned gender norms, mainstream attitudes to sex, a basic level of homophobia and sexism and racism, all of which, of course, are sort of played with and overtly frowned at but ultimately accepted and redeemed in the end, in the name of “humour”. As always, for a film that’s all about “following your dreams and stepping outside of the rigid guidelines of mainstream society”, the final resolution is a wedding and a baby. In my real review, I ended by saying basically that this movie sucks, but if your idea of a laugh is Robert DeNiro rapping, then you’d like this garbage. It came off pretty judgemental, so I’d like to add, for the record, that I was definitely referring to a part of myself which definitely did find that part funny. But regardless, unless you’re a reluctant scholar of awful misogynist 2000’s-bro-fart movies like me, there’s literally no reason to ever see this.