A comedy in which a married father accidentally switches bodies with his best friend, leading to a series of wildly complex difficulties.
Occasionally entertaining, always sweary. The dynamic duo at the centre save it from further disgrace; if they’d been swapped for actors with less charm, we’d be talking genuine physical discomfort.
Too bad so much of this film is flushed with excruciating excreta gags.
Not a change for the better.
Flee, flee from all of it.
There are a few tired laughs to be had, but it is mostly predictable.
Despite the promise of the title, this a fairly stale offering, plodding through the beats of a well-worn subgenre but failing to add much more than a foul mouth.
The same old rubbish.
Bateman and Reynolds are good value, given the shopworn material, though there's a dose of American triumphalism...Not a heartwarmer.
The poop jokes are the only memorable ones.
What could have made for a provocative black comedy is sabotaged by scatological humour and a nasty strain of misogyny.
Like the copious pooh that his baby son squirts into Bateman's mouth during a nappy change, it leaves a bad taste in the mouth.
It's a lewd, crude, male wish-fulfilment fantasy, as you'd expect from the writers of The Hangover and the director of Wedding Crashers. But it provides just enough chuckles to count as a guilty pleasure, mainly due to Bateman and Reynolds's motormouthed confidence.
General release. Check local listings for show times.
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