by Michael Sullivan

I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell (2009) is very loosely based off of a Tucker Max book of the same name. The book is a compilation of short, unapologetic "autobiographical" stories about the author's insane sexual exploits in graphic detail. They're crude. They're misogynistic. And they're hilarious. The film is not. Well actually, the film is the first two. It's just one of those concepts that works in literature and absolutely doesn't in cinema. Allow me to explain:

The film I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell makes its first mistake by even attempting to tell a story. Were it a string of short vignette's about Tucker Max (Matt Czuchry), it might might work. But it's not. Instead, it's about Max as he takes his buddies Dan (Geoff Stults) and Drew (Jesse Bradford) up to Salem for Dan's bachelor party, as--of course--Max needs to find a strip club without a "no touch" policy. And they do.

This arc is accomplished in about 30 minutes, though really most of it is fluff and could've taken another film 10. Herein lies the second fault: there's no story to tell. Once whatever "plot" that arc constitutes is accomplished, the film diverges into a series of digressions, not knowing exactly what to care about. Do we follow Drew and his reluctant love for a quick-witted stripper? Or do we follow Dan as he's beaten in jail after being arrested for public indecency? Actually, maybe we're supposed to follow the protagonist Tucker. But, wait a minute, where is Tucker? Oh, that's right, the film actually forgets where the protagonist is for its entire second act. Only in a flashback in the third act do we learn that he was busy pursuing a promiscuous little person to scratch another notch into his proverbial bedpost--and of course he chases this act with a string of gratuitous, repulsive, politically incorrect "midget jokes."

The film's third problem is its writing, for numerous reasons. 1.) Audiences can't connect with a film in which the protagonist isn't likable. Tucker Max is utterly revolting, but somehow he always gets the girl and he's smart to boot! Seriously?! 2.) Things often don't make a lot of sense. For example, why would a bride-to-be and her overly conservative mother go shopping for a moonbounce (yes, a moonbounce) at 11 o'clock at night? Or if Tucker and his friends are college students--a stretch given that not a single one looks under 30--how the hell do they have so much money? And 3.) the writers of I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell, among whom the real Max himself is one, are of the mistaken belief that funny dialogue comes from just a bunch of naughty words and crass images strung end-to-end. The film does not contain a single laugh line in it. There is a pronounced line between shock and humor and this script stands safely on the former side.

Avoid touching this one with a ten foot pole. I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell is a strong candidate for the worst film I've ever seen. In my life. Oh, and if all the things I cited above weren't bad enough, it's also worth mentioning that the third act contains a 10 minute sequence in which Max actually defecates himself. Yeah. Explicitly. The only reason I didn't leave the theater is because I knew I'd be writing a review of the film. I suffered for you to know not to enter in the first place.