Review: Miss March

Forever making the statement “From two of ‘The Whitest Kids U’Know’” into not just a warning, but a threat, Miss March—written, directed, and starring that comedy troupe’s Trevor Moore and Zach Cregger—is so awful as to make straight men loathe Playboy. Quickly taking up residence in the frat-boy humor sewer, the film commences with lifeless flashbacks to two young boys discovering an older brother’s Playboy and one of them immediately turning into a profane, loudmouth horndog fit for employment as a leering construction worker. That would be Tucker (Moore), a sex maniac in a Hawaiian shirt and the polar opposite of best bud Eugene (Cregger), who gives abstinence lectures to middle schoolers with his longtime girlfriend Cindi (Raquel Alessi). On the prom night he’s supposed to finally do the deed, Eugene accidentally falls down some stairs and lands in a coma, from which he wakes four years later to learn that Cindi has become Playboy’s latest centerfold. Inspiration doesn’t get anywhere near the ensuing plot, which finds Tucker—on the run from an epileptic girlfriend who had a seizure while giving him a blowjob and promptly bit down on his dick, causing him to stab her in the face with a fork—kidnapping Eugene for a cross-country trek to the Playboy Mansion. Their journey is full of what the filmmakers must consider “outrageous,” though Miss March is so monumentally inept at crafting craziness, and yet so pleased with its various raunchy bits, that an air of misguided self-satisfaction envelops the proceedings. Attempts are made to push boundaries by having a playmate drink dog urine, a whore fly out a tour bus window, and Eugene uncontrollably defecate, with only a climactic crotch shot coming close to offering up a nasty surprise. Mostly, though, this pitiful pseudo-promo for Playboy—and, in particular, the intolerable sub-Jim Carrey shtick of comedy-killer Moore—proves as inert and unfunny as the obligatory cameo of Hef himself, here looking like an unwrapped mummy.