Investigating why this garbage got made

I generally like Rudolph's work, even when it borders on the pretentious, but this one plain reeks of it, to the point where I was shaking my head at the screen, not believing what I was hearing and seeing during most of the film's running time. The premise is interesting and somewhat perverse ~ the men hire two stenogs to transcribe every stupid word they utter; one of them is played by the always-good Robin Tunney, who's sexually evolved a bit, having at least 3 conquests under her belt, and the other is played by a squirmy, virginal Neve Campbell, who's never been worse. A ridiculous part, no question, but someone with some panache - I kept picturing Geraldine Chaplin when she was younger - might have at least brought some fun and believability to the proceedings.

Good cast, and good performances, otherwise (considering the material). Nick Nolte's a hoot, raving about his sexual encounters with a particularly attractive donkey, whom he'd enjoyed on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he tells us, in his drunken stupor, and on Wednesdays there was a goat he'd set his sights on but said goat was too fast and he never could catch him. Him. That's right. His character professes to be an equal-opportunity bestiality master, who is married to Tuesday Weld, who talks with a ridiculous sort of German accent part of the time and sounds like she's from the Bronx for the rest.

Alan Cumming, who is always fun to watch, is fun here as well, relieving himself of his shirt every chance he gets and posing like a Greek god around the room these clowns are supposedly 'investigating' sex in.

By the end, it means absolutely nothing, of course, except that you wasted a little time hoping for some clever titillation at the very least and some possible insight on the subject. There's more insight to be had in any Will Ferrell movie, folks, and that's a harsh indictment.