ASKED: “Why does anybody climb a mountain?”, George Mallory answered: “Because it’s there!” Mallory’s corpse spent 75 years on Mt Everest waiting for somebody to discover it. The only reference to Mallory I saw in […]
WAY back when, a popular Hollywood comedy genre involved a couple of guys braving the world beyond the borders of the US. The classics of that genre teamed Bing Crosby and Bob Hope with Dorothy Lamour on the “Road To” wherever.
Director Jonathon Levine and writer Katie Dippold explore that genre by sending a mother and daughter into the Ecuadoran backblocks. The resulting film is billed as a comedy. When I saw it, the mums and bubs around me didn’t laugh a lot. After it ended, one pram-pusher made no bones about it. She didn’t think it was much of a movie.
A few empty seats along from me, two women sipping their morning glasses of wine did laugh. They were watching Amy Schumer, most noted for her lack of restraint when dealing with intimate body matters (no great sin if done for creditable purpose) playing Emily who, after her boyfriend dumps her, persuades her straight-laced mother Linda (Goldie Hawn looking not bad in her early seventies) to join her on a fun and frolic trip to Ecuador.
There local ruffians kidnap the pair and cart them into the boondocks where they fall foul of other exploitative men, none of whom assails their bodies in an unacceptable way before they get rescued.
The amusing moments that made the wine-sipping pair laugh involved Schumer, for whom no intimate trick short of outright porn is excessive. The mums gasped at the moment when Emily implicitly refreshed her vulva with a wet-wipe in expectation of coming pleasures. The wine sippers laughed. The mums gasped again when Emily’s breast popped out of her top. The wine sippers laughed again. And many of the bubs bawled mightily, as I expected they might but not so vociferously.
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