What do you get when you combine a spry-stash, cigarettes, strange evangelists and Justin Long? The answer is a relatively intelligent, slightly missing the mark, story of love, life and the pursuit of vagina.
Michael Cera is brilliant in his dual role as Nick Twisp, a semi-socially retarded goodie two-shoes, and Francois Dillinger, a narcissistic sissy with a terrible moustache and a pension for getting into trouble and then pussing out.
The chick in the movie, who gives a donkey's ass what her name is, is obnoxious. She is everything that is wrong about women. Throughout the course of the entire movie you never have a fucking hope that you'll ever know what, if anything, is floating around in her silly woman head (all complaints about this episodes' misogyny can be directed towards donairfilms@gmail.com).
There are some problems with the movie. First, Cera's sudden drift into multiple personalities is a little confusing and honestly happens a little too quickly with little or no reference to what the fuck is happening. Zack Gallifaganakolistikov (I don't have a sweet fucking clue how you pronounce his name) is relatively amusing and Ray Liotta has WAY too much fun smacking a young boys' ass.
Michael Cera's mom is a whore, his dad is a douchebag and the sister from Fringe his hot as balls.
Apparently this is a good fucking book. It's an ok movie. Maybe I should read the book.
I give this 2 donairs. It's watchable, but has a lot of holes.
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