Grumpy Comedy Reviews – Wild Hogs

What is there to say, really? Wild Hogs is a terrible, homophobic, piece of shit movie. The fact that it racked up millions at the box office should be proof enough we deserve complete economic and social collapse.

The sooner we’re spending every waking minute protecting our women and rations from marauding mutants, the sooner we’re not spending our money and time on cinematic feces starring a washed-up Scientologist who squandered his own comeback, a guy who went from starring in Fargo to slumming it in Jurassic Park III, a racist one-man minstrel show, and a comedian whose best role is unseen as the voice of a computer-generated space ranger.

I mean, holy fuck, who signed off on a cast this fucking random?!

Well, fuck, RANDOM is the word to describe Wild Hogs! From start to finish it’s loosely connected bullshit, like the script was written on Post-It notes during the shoot. Which, I’m sure it was! It’s all overacting, yelling and screaming and – get this! — none of it’s funny or entertaining, and it drags on forever!

If you find random shots of a guy singing “Don’t you think your girlfriend is hot like me” to be funny, you’ll love this. If you think an hour-long scene in which a bull chases after our daring heroes while shitty banjo music plays, then slap your knees and throw popcorn all over your awful, plaid carpet.

If you think four guys, naked, in a hot spring for far too long is the zenith of Comedy Mountain, then buy rush tickets to Jeff Dunham’s next show because you’re a fucking idiot.

PANDERING is another word. Or is it pathetic? Ah, either one. Peter Fonda shows up at the end to defuse the situation – Oh yeah, our silly “wild hogs” manage to upset some “real” bikers and they threaten to beat everyone up. OK, whatever. But hey, get it?! Peter Fonda’s in it because he was in movies about bikers while he was in his prime! He just looks happy to be working!

And y’know how they’re saying, more than ever, that actresses have no decent roles in Hollywood? To prove it, you need not look any further than Marisa Tomei. She’s played the same damn character for the past decade, shit, her entire career! Maybe? Sure.

Tomei always plays the Loser’s Girlfriend. In Anger Management, she’s Adam Sandler’s girlfriend for some reason. I guess because he plays the same character in every movie he’s in, too, so that makes sense. In the first shot of Before The Devil Knows You’re Dead she’s fucking Philip Seymour Hoffman, his flabby ass pounding away, wheezing, exhausted, fretting over drugs or banana sundaes or whatever.

Then, in The Wrestler, the Oscar-winning Loser movie, she takes a risk and plays the Loser’s Almost Girlfriend. They never actually seal the deal in that one, which is probably the reason why it was pretty okay. I mean, I was totally rooting for Randy the entire way, except when it came to banging her amazing 40-year-old butt. That just wouldn’t have been realistic at all! But holy crap, her body, man. She has a better figure than women half her age, man, it’s ridiculous. I feel BAD for all you 20somethings, fuck, hit the gym, your thighs disgust me.

Oh god, where was I…?

Oh yeah, so she’s William H. Macy, the wimpy loser’s love interest in this. Another hour of the movie is dedicated to their courtship, so that’s like, a subplot I guess. Or a plotplot, since there’s really nothing else going on besides Ray Liotta wanting to kill them. Oh shit, yeah, our friend Ray Liotta’s in the same fucking movie. Like Tomei, he’s stuck in a rut. All he does is yell and stare as hard as he can at people, and he does it to considerable length here and it’s painful to watch. I’d rather floss my teeth with razor wire than put up with more of Liotta’s bullshit.

So after Liotta tries to punch Macy’s teeth in, Fonda shows up and is all, “HEY GUYS LET’S GET ALONG!” and that magically fixes everything. Then, we’re treated to a scene of our heroes riding their HOGS down a sunny strip lined with bikini babes as The Beach Boys plays on the soundtrack. Cue one more stupid gag. Cue wild applause.

Wild HOG applause.

Y’know, the biggest disappointment of 2009 was, out of all those hundreds of celebrity deaths, no one involved with Wild Hogs kicked the bucket. You’d think the Law of Averages or something would be on my side here, but I guess not.

Even if Tim Allen and everyone suffered explosive leukemia tomorrow Wild Hogs would still exist in the DVD collections of morons across the world. It would still be played in syndication on FX every fucking Tuesday. Right inbetween Fantastic Four 2: Rise of the Silver Surfer and The Day After Tomorrow. Thanks, idiots. Thanks for keeping ball jokes, middling gay jokes and Travolta’s career alive.

Ride on, you pioneers. Right over the edge of a volcano.

***Tim Magus is Julius Bloop’s film reviewer. Visit his website – Grump Factory***