Film Review: Dumb and Dumber To

As we are now well and truly in the clutches of Winter, there is nothing better than wrapping up warm and watching a comedy to pass the time until the cold and ever-lasting dark days finally vanish. Considering this, there may be some of you whom are looking forward to Jim Carey and Jeff Daniels reprising their roles as Harry and Lloyd in “Dumb and Dumber To” – only this time, they’re old and embarking on a quest that may have life-altering consequences… dun dun dun!

As much as I would love to fill you with joy and state that “Dumb and Dumber To” is a piece of comedy gold that will induce fits of laughter and uncontrollable giggles, alas, “Dumb and Dumber To” is roughly 109 minutes of nothing but cringe-worthy attempts at being funny.

Perhaps I’m being slightly unfair, I tittered once or twice during the film and the credits weren’t terrible, so taking that into consideration, we’ll say that it’s
roughly 95 minutes of yawn-inducing viewing, 3 minutes of painful viewing, 7 minutes of credits and 4 minutes of actual comedy. It may well be that I am not the target audience (actually I think that’s rather apparent), but I’m struggling to comprehend who that target audience could be?

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The humour is inconceivably crass – the most notable moments being when;
1) Lloyd gets… how to put this tastefully… ‘intimate’ with a pensioner, and …
2) Lloyd uses a whip to fend off a ninja in his dream and, quite literally, rips his manhood off and swings them around and …
3) the numerous points at which Harry is changing Lloyd’s nappy and there are constant fart, etc. references.

It’s not ALL doom and gloom, there were a couple of chuckle-worthy scenes. The telephone conversation with Lloyd and Harry when searching for Harry’s daughter is amusing and seeing Jim Carey poking out the top of an enormous tree did make the audience smile.

I take no pleasure in slating this film, but I there’s just not enough substance. Nobody minds some crude remarks, but you need to make sure there is a well-written, amusing and strong script to support it.

Unfortunately, the script lacks that ‘je ne sais quoi’ and sadly no amount of rubbery Jim Carey faces can make up for it.

The name's Russell, Victoria Russell, but please do call me Vix. The things in life that keep me smiling are:- Music (predominantly EDM, but partial to some Einaudi and Country), food, films and dressing up in a morph suit and running around town, imagining that I'm a vigilante. Follow me on Twitter HERE

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