American Reunion

When the first American Pie film became a surprise smash in 1999, the film’s creators thought that they had
re-invented teenage sex, and the photogenic young cast was poised to be ruling
sovereigns of the new Hollywood. Now, the crew returns a decade later with
perhaps one decent film career between them. Things did not go as planned for
the likes of Jason Biggs, Mena Suvari and Chris Klein, though their career
swoons seem trivial stacked beside the sad, drugged-up antics of co-stars
Natasha Lyonne and Tara Reid. So the gang returns, not so much in triumph as in
cash-grabbing shame, running through the motions and trying not to embarrass
themselves too badly. Not that the Pie franchise has a proud legacy to uphold,
having lowered the bar for dozens of ever-filthier comedies following in the
debut’s wake.

After a string a of sequels —
including some loosely connected straight-to-video clunkers — the original gang
all heads back home to East Great Falls, Mich., for their 13th high school
reunion, because they just couldn’t get it together in time to make it for
their 10th. Poor schlub Jim (Biggs) used to fret that he’d be the last of his
friends to get laid, and, now that he’s married to nice Bandcamp freak Michelle
(Alyson Hannigan) and with a toddler, he’s worried that he’ll never get laid
again. Meanwhile, jovial jock Oz seems to be living the dream, working as a
cable sportscaster with a cool house and a hot model girlfriend, but he longs
for a more honest lifestyle. The other dudes are struggling, but pretending to
have a good time in adulthood, especially manic party machine Stifler (Scott)
who toils as low-level drone in a soulless financial firm.

As for the ladies, who cares?
Certainly not the screenwriters, who can barely be bothered to give them a
scene together, or any dialogue that doesn’t directly relate to either
punishing or pleasing the guys.

Faring slightly better is
Eugene Levy, the comedic glue that barely holds this patchwork franchise
intact, and he’s dependably goofy as Jim’s dorky, lovelorn widower dad. Ace
improviser Levy finally gets to riff with his Christopher Guest ensemble mate
Jennifer Coolidge, as Stiffler’s perpetually lustful mom, and together they
deliver the movie’s biggest laugh, but you have to wait for the credits.

Getting to the end involves
wading through a slog of drinking, puking, flabby man butts, S&M gags,
nudity, wanking jokes and a grown man taking a dump in a beer cooler. Even
worse are the almost a dozen lackluster subplots that the movie insists on
playing out, including a pseudo romance with bland Kevin (Thomas Ian Nichols)
and Tara Reid’s Vicky, whose eyes are as vacant as a marlin flopping around on
a boat deck. Poor Lyonne gets relegated to a cameo, probably because she’s even
more erratic and uninsurable than Reid. One hopes this modestly amusing
installment should sate the nostalgia needs of whoever still cares — we can
safely leave the partying and panty raids to tomorrow’s horndogs.

This article appears in Apr 4-10, 2012.