That's not to dismiss Paul's simple pleasures -- if nothing else, its fondness for sex and drugs and four-letter words rescues its references from the soft hands of wee ones into which they've fallen of late.
What has happened to Pegg? Why does he mug so? Why can't he relax and let the audience come to him, rather than auditioning for our affection with every reaction shot?
[Pegg and Frost'] successes seem to have functioned as a supermagnet, attracting not only the skilled comedy director Greg Mottola but a supporting cast that could sustain two or three movies on its own.
Because of the lethargic pace, cheeky jokes become positively jowly. And the easy lampoons of rednecks and bible thumpers beg to be called "Close Encounters of the secondhand."
Set your humor-detection capacitors for moderate to above-average intake levels. I haven't laughed this much since maybe last Monday, but that was a particularly strong Monday.