Director Jay Chandrasekhar succeeds in making the most idiotic film possible about issues surrounding male potency and childbirth.
'From the director of Super Troopers…' Well, at least you can't blame the poster tagline for overselling Jay Chandrasekhar's lamentable sex hash, The Babymakers, a depressingly slap-dash attempt to jump on the conception comedy bandwagon, but re-nose the material for an audience of honking male quarterbacks.
The opening scene establishes the tone of the film, but not in the way in which it intends to. Wisecracking super-couple Tommy (Paul Schneider) and Audrey (Olivia Munn) are woken up by a crying child. Tommy gets up and slams the window shut and the pair continue to sleep. The 'joke' is that they haven't got a baby, and so are trying to drown out the noise being made by a neighbour's sprog. Yet, the scene is so poorly photographed and executed that it plays like Tommy is being comically negligent towards his own child. The scene only clicks about fifteen minutes into the film.
By this time, we know that Tommy, due to repeated stress to his groin area, is now – hilariously! – firing blanks, and is unable to supply Audrey with the sperm she so cravenly desires. Yet, he had made numerous deposits into the local sperm bank back in the day, so if he could just break in and get his frozen sample back, everything will be AOK.
Examining various issues linked to childbirth with all the insight of a self-help guide unearthed from the early nineteenth century, Chandrasekhar does everything in his power to make sure that any serious talk is swiftly punctuated with a scene in which Tommy is running, shouting or driving to loud music and then is eventually humiliated. He casts himself as a crude Indian helpmeet named Ron Jon, who is a stale rehash of Jamie Foxx's Motherfucker Jones from Horrible Bosses. And every possible variation of masturbation set piece is shoe-horned in for good measure, even one particularly awful one involving the outre porno stash used at a sperm bank.
No-one looks like they're having a particularly good time here, and the with some of the dialogue they have to speak (any excuse to slot in the word "vagina" is pounced upon), you can kinda see why. Plot strands are started and never returned to, such as Tommy's smarmy neighbour offering to step in as a donor, and the Executive Decision-style offer that he is given by a gay couple who have already secured his final sperm sample. An obligatory feel-good coda is also cynical in the extreme.
This tanked majorly in the US and got terrible reviews across the board. Still, ya never know!
Depressing in the extreme. Munn and Schneider deserve better material than this.
It actually gets more stupid the more you think about it. Which is some kind of result?