It’s not sexy, it’s not funny. It is awful.
So many questions were swirling through my head as I sat through Sex Tape during a Sunday matinee at Shoppingtown.
What was Jason Segal thinking when he wrote a screenplay like this for himself to star in? Did he believe this was going to convince everybody that he’s a power player who is glad How I Met Your Mother is now finally in his rearview mirror?
What was Cameron Diaz’s agent thinking when she or he told the actress to sign a contract to star as Segal’s wife in this one? Was somebody holding a gun to either one of their heads?
What were the three women who looked like they were in their 60s thinking when they got up and left the theater midway through the film? Was it because one more sex scene, this one between the Segal-Diaz characters’ best friends in the back seat of their car, pushed them over the edge, or was it because this culmination to another ludicrous scene was the plot straw that broke the camel’s back?
Why did the loud-guy behind us who sounded like he was in his 80s and his slightly quieter wife who sounded like she was in her 70s choose to come to this movie? Did they walk into the wrong theater by mistake and fail to realize it? Did they walk into the wrong theater by mistake and get tantalized by the title? Did he have to keep telling her about Segal’s character getting bit by that big dog every time it happened like they were sitting in their living room?
Why did the other dozen or so people in the theater sit quietly and endure the entire 94 minutes?
Why wasn’t there another opening movie this weekend that screamed “pick me! pick me!” more loudly to me than this one?
How long would it take my dear wife Karen to forgive me for taking her along with me to see this movie?
How in the world could I allow myself to chuckle out loud three times, even sardonically, at this movie?
If you’re not into rhetorical questions:
Sex Tape is awful.
Watch the trailer here:
