The Change-Up (2011)

If there is one thing that separates good comedies from bad comedies, it’s that the good ones actually have some level of compassion for their characters. If a film spends most of its time cruelly mocking and degrading the characters they worked so hard to create, then it’s difficult to make the case the audience should care about them any more than the screenwriters did. Most of the raunchy, R-rated comedies under the Judd Apatow banner work because they connect with their characters on a deep level and have a vested interest in their ultimate fates. The Change-Up is no such film. Its dirtiness alone is not the problem; it’s that it completely lacks a heart, soul, or interest in anything besides how to best get to the next lame attempt at scatological humor. This film exists in a universe where you would not want to be caught with your mouth open, for excrement will surely find its way inside.

I’m not exaggerating about the excrement thing, by the way. The first scene of the film follows Dave Lockwood (Jason Bateman) as he wakes up in the middle of the night to tend to his newborn children. As he changes one of their diapers, there is a moment of what can only be described as projectile diarrhea. And yes, it goes right into his mouth. After this appetizing scene of fecal hilarity, we meet Dave’s friend Mitch (Ryan Reynolds), a wannabe actor who spends his days doing absolutely nothing and his evenings sleeping with random women. After the two of them go out drinking and talk about how awesome it would be to have each other’s lives, they pee in a magical fountain together and wake up the next morning in each other’s bodies. Now they must adapt to their new lives, while also learning to appreciate what they had all along, or whatever.

There is no one to sympathize with in The Change-Up, a film written like an exercise in the sophomoric and directed (by David Dobkin) with all the visual flair of a Soviet apartment building. Here is a film that believes the very notion of somebody going to the bathroom is inherently hil-AR-ious, as is the mere existence of breasts or genitalia. There are no real jokes constructed out of all this crudity; the crudity just exists and that is supposed to have the audience rolling in the aisles with laughter. There have been many R-rated comedies released this year, but none are dirtier than this. However, “dirtiest” does not equal “best,” particularly when you’re dealing with a premise that’s been done to death like the body-switch comedy. The film doesn’t even approach the concept from a clever angle; it follows the formula beat-for-beat, but only with more nudity and poop jokes.

It’s hard to blame the cast here, as their verbal interactions occasionally elevate the film to tolerability. Reynolds in particular has some amiable moments, particularly when he’s supposed to be playing the Bateman character. Again, though, the things the script makes him do are just unpleasant to witness. The Change-Up is less interested in developing its characters and universe than it is in pushing their faces into the dirt. That does not make for an engaging comedy. Worse yet, Bateman’s normal straight man character winds up being horribly unlikable after the body switch, and the way he treats every situation isn’t funny as much as it is depressing. The much-advertised scene of Leslie Mann’s character going to the bathroom (again, poop humor!) is even more horrendous in context.

The Change-Up was written by Jon Lucas and Scott Moore, who wrote The Hangover; one of the biggest comedy sensations in recent memory. This film has no sign of the wit, intelligent plot or memorable characters that made that previous effort a success. It replaces the fun of The Hangover with the ugliness and humorlessness of The Hangover Part II. Only worse. It is a fundamentally dumb and wrongheaded film that features horrible characters engaging in horrible activities, and there are no redeeming qualities to be found. It systematically moves from disgusting, unfunny joke to disgusting, unfunny joke without regard for realism, character development, or the notion that a film is supposed to be an enjoyable experience.

GRADE: D