American Wedding
Starring Jason Biggs, Seann William Scott and Alyson Hannigan; directed by Jesse Dylan
While the pie is certainly still stale, at least it’s not as nauseating as it was the second time around, when sequelitis served up a piece as tasteless as it was plotless. Too bad the production here is so obviously half-assed, with only half the cast returning for a so-called “climactic” wedding and the absentees lazily unexplained. The plethora of bland characters tends to outweigh the hilarity of the few developed roles (Seann William Scott’s raunchy badmouth Stifler steals the show) while poor narrative logic deteriorates the film’s overall appeal of lighthearted endearment (that worked so well in number one). Fans (especially of the pre-adolescent variety) surely won’t care, lapping every sticky ounce of the bodily emissions gags, no matter how tired and predictable they’ve become.
The film opens with yet another embarrassing Jim’s Dad farce.
For the uneducated, Jim (the apparently “lovable” Jason Biggs) is a horn-dog loser-teen who’s sex-ed exploits have precursored hordes of derivative gross-out teen flicks in the last five years. Jim’s Dad (Eugene Levy) is the hopelessly naïve schmuck trying to show his show his son the ropes of manhood, through many awkward conversations about dating, marriage and pubic shaving.
The gratuitous opener involves a forgotten proposal ring, a fine-dining blowjob and you-guessed-it, an awkwardly unneeded confidence-booster by Jim’s Dad as a certain someone is “absent” from the table. Sure it’s amusing, but the scene acts a perfect barometer for the rest of the film—so persistent for laughs that it self-plagiarizes.
What ensues is a bubbling attempt to throw the most immature/vulgar wedding of the decade, with lame, ultimately threat-less complications getting in the way of things. Sure there’s the buzzing annoyance of loser-jock Steve Stifler to overcome, as the vulgar player sabotages the planning process and Jim’s upstanding relationship with his fiancé’s snooty parents. Outside this calamity—though nicely bolstered by Stifler’s increasingly irksome rivalry with philosophile Finch (Eddie Kaye Thomas)—the war to impress Michelle Flaherty’s folks is rather painless. Even when a hilarious strip-show bachelor party “accidentally” mixes with a wholesomely strategic conversation between Jim and his in-laws, the resolution is rather tame.
The rest of the returning American Pie crew are given ridiculously little material to work with. Kevin Myers (Thomas Ian Nicholas) stands around as only a supportive friend, and his missing girlfriend (Tara Reid’s Vicky) is only mentioned in an attempt to avoid a sexy French Maid’s exotic charms. The rest of the misplaced cast—Chris Klein’s sensitive jock, Mena Suvari’s romantic songstress and Shannon Elizabeth’s curvy sextoy—might’ve otherwise made the story a bit more interesting, but instead reveal the boring simplicity of it in their absence.
American Wedding may have a fair share of laugh-out-loud gags mixed with honestly cute lovey-dovey/growing-up moments but they’re just not enough. The sequel is so obviously a desperate attempt to revive the burnt out careers of its stars that it’s difficult to fully appreciate the fecal matter consumption jokes. The reused comic formulas are back in full force, from the gross sexual misuse of unknown household item (cut to proper groan-inducing use of household item) and the always-dependable mistaken make-outs. As a climax, American Wedding is a fairly mediocre conclusion—heck, they could’ve at least risked a nastier peak to the amusing Stifler homo-innuendo. So unless you want the microwavable leftovers of a decent cinematic dessert I suggest you reward yourself with a dietary fast.
Rating: Two Stars and a half out of five