100 Best Underrated Comedy Movies of All Time

A movie based on a theme park ride is always going to be a marketing exercise, but what’s remarkable about Haunted Mansion is how uninterested it is in even pretending to be anything more. Amazon, Yankee Candle, CVS, Baskin Robbins, Burger King: you could fill a mall with the list of brands shamelessly name-dropped in the movie. Gallingly, the cast are even forced to do double duty as brand ambassadors during some of the movie’s most determined efforts at poignancy — oof.

Not even an ensemble featuring the comedic-dramatic chops of LaKeith Stanfield, Rosario Dawson, Tiffany Haddish, Danny DeVito, Owen Wilson, and Chase Dillon (the best of the bunch) can make such naked cash-grabs feel organic. What’s more, though, Haunted Mansion depressingly asks so little of its cast that there aren’t really any opportunities for them to counterbalance these embarrassing moments with anything approaching compelling. Adding to its struggles are the mansion’s sludgy color palette (which renders every scene unremarkable, no matter how moving or spooky it’s supposed to be) and the fact that it somehow feels rushed even at an overlong two hours. Though you can appreciate director Justin Simien’s efforts at elevating the material into something coherent, Haunted Mansion feels as lifeless as the ghosts that fill it.

There’s a powerful drama in here somewhere, where the toll of wrongful imprisonment tests the resolve of an Armenian repatriate, as he clings to traces of hope that he can see just beyond his prison cell window. Unfortunately, Amerikatsi constantly overstates itself through corny jokes and music choices, and it overestimates how compelling its mostly single-location narrative can be. This is a film that, for all its good intentions, relies far too heavily on fish-out-of-water quaintness and Rear Window-esque storytelling from a distance—downplaying the emotional and psychological toll of imprisonment and the violence inflicted upon other Armenians during this time. Amerikatsi doesn’t really tell us much about the situation in the country at the time; it only ever tries too hard to make us feel something.

Five Blind Dates is a squeaky clean, hopelessly boring film pretending to be a raunchy romcom. Despite Lia (Shuang Hu) going on five (or four, really) dates, she doesn’t find real chemistry with any one of them. There’s no heat, no passion, no inane fun to be had, or reckless experimentation. It’s clear that what she’s after isn’t really love but a partner who accepts her traditional whims, which I guess counts as a happy ending if this were airing on Hallmark or any other wholesome TV channel. But it isn’t, and instead of embracing its true form—that is, family drama—it instead postures as a modern and exciting romcom, even though it contains zero spice.

To be fair, the film has its funny moments, and I do think the first date’s premise, while played for laughs, has the potential to spark an interesting discussion about our generation’s willingness to sacrifice intimacy for financial security. But the film doesn’t really go there, nor anywhere, and remains as stale and safe as can be.

In TV and cinema, meeting your partner’s parents is a tried-and-tested formula that’s bound to generate relatable laughs. Meet the Parents, The Proposal, and Happiest Season are some modern classics that come to mind. Yet, French Girl fumbles this opportunity by peddling cliche after cliche with zero charm. Braff’s character is supposed to possess at least an inkling of likeability for us to root for him, but he can’t even manage that. His rival Ruby (Vanessa Hudgens) is so much more inviting that the film has to create a whole new evil arc for her in the third act to convince us to turn on her. This is all too bad because, beneath the rubble that is the film’s characters and plot lines, there is something true and endearing in the form of Sophie’s family. I wish we had more of those scenes because their interactions feel real and intimate. Unrestricted by formula and pressures to be funny, they soar.

There’s something genuine at the core of Jackpot that unfortunately gets lost in the movie’s violence, spectacle, and “humor,” which is that life has become so unlivable in America that resorting to a Purge-like scenario now seems more likely than receiving actual care and rights from the state. You can see it whenever Katie (Akwafina), a struggling actor, is given room to express her frustration and desperation. These moments, small as they are, feel real and relatable, and they recall Akwafina’s superior performance in the 2018 drama The Farewell, which I believe she should do more of, instead of films like this. And by films like this, I mean Jackpot, which feels like a streaming filler meant to be consumed and forgotten the moment it ends (assuming you don’t pause and look for something else midway). If you want mindless action, then this film could be for you. John Cena is reliably cool, and Machine Gun Kelly makes a surprisingly hilarious cameo. But if you’re looking for something meaningful, you’ll have to buy a ticket elsewhere.

The plot of the Union feels insultingly childish. An undercover agency has to retrieve an important device before it falls into the “wrong” (i.e. non-Western) hands, and to achieve that, they absolutely must have Mike (Wahlberg) on their team. That nothing here seems plausible shouldn’t be the point–it’s an action movie anyway. But even the action isn’t thrilling. There’s no tension or buildup, no satisfying hits and falls. There’s nothing in here that you haven’t seen before. The potential saving grace lies in its A-lister leads, Wahlberg and Berry. They’re supposed to be lovers here but the chemistry they create is closer to “colleagues who have an unexplored spark” more than anything. The Union works as a mid-tier nostalgia-filled film. It’s a perfectly okay movie, neither bad nor good, which seems par for the course for streaming anyway.

A screwball comedy following two crass female cops sounds, well, nice. But without a compelling mystery, believable chemistry, and funny jokes, Nice Girls fails to live up to its name. The crime that drives the movie’s plot feels flimsy and Disney-esque, a formula of a mystery you’ve seen a hundred times before. The chemistry between Leo and Melanie seems nonexistent. Yes, they’re capable actors who do especially well in their action scenes, but together, they fail to create a memorable spark. And then there are the jokes, which I want to believe are lost in translation instead of just plain unfunny. They feel dated in their observations but current because of the context (they’re often racial or political), but they never seem to land. None of the other parts of the film seem to. It’s a great idea—not since Spy have I seen such a valiant attempt at a female crime-busting duo—but it ultimately fails to deliver.

Fifteen minutes into Marry My Dead Body, it becomes clear where this supernatural crime dramedy is going; the only question is if the two-hour runtime is worth it. It has “don’t drop the soap” bits that will cause severe whiplash, and sporadic mentions of misogyny that are just as offensive. As an action film, there’s nothing notable or memorable about it, and as a drama, there isn’t enough emotional substance to overshadow the childish antics of our protagonists. If anything, Greg Hsu as Wu Ming-han and Austin Lin as Mao Pang-yu have a chemistry that somehow survives everything thrown its way. But don’t let curiosity get the better of you—as absurd as it sounds, the film isn’t nearly as exciting as it sounds. 

There’s a novel idea at the center of World’s First Christmas, but the film’s unfortunately takes it through the least interesting route available. There’s a rich opportunity here to unpack what the holiday season really means to people, or to poke fun at how this occasion for togetherness and celebration has been co-opted by corporations trying to make a buck. But the film never gets there, running through a series of occasionally funny scenarios only to end up becoming an unconvincing advertisement for Christmas as a consumer holiday. The main gag here is that everyone has been left miserable by the absence of Christmas, which is an idea that falls apart immediately once you start asking even the simplest questions about it.

You should know from the get-go that Cocoa is a wild farce that doesn’t take itself too seriously, and neither should you. The mafia, a wild scientist, and a giant clumsy dog somehow weave themselves into what initially seems to be just a story of two sisters selling pastries and bonding along the way. It goes in for multiple twists and turns, which on paper, sounds like a fun ride, but shoddy production value can only get you so far. After a few chuckles, the poor direction, elementary acting, and stilted editing all catch up on you, and Cocoa soon becomes the kind of movie you have to sit through and endure rather than breeze through. It’s great to put on if you have undiscerning kids around, but otherwise, this TV movie just doesn’t cut it. 

Mae is a hopeless romantic looking for love and more clients for her custom t-shirts. After a meet-cute at the grocery store, she turns to an app called Missed Connections to find him. After they finally meet, Mae realizes he has a connection with someone else. Now determined to make him fall in love with her, she hires him to rebuild her website. As a rom-com, the comedy isn’t particularly outstanding or noticeable. The romance, and Mae, are hard to root for, especially when her obsessions go too far, her slut-shaming goes unchecked, and it all lasts for 90% of the film without any real cathartic resolutions. 

The Spy Kids movies have always been knowingly corny, which hasn’t changed for this latest installment—it’s just that it also has an odd lack of color and personality to its generic action movie shenanigans. This is especially disappointing given the film’s focus on video games, which it only seems to understand in their most surface level terms. And because there’s a lack of definition in the movie’s rules and logic, the plot progresses without any weight or sense of mounting excitement. These are just people going through the motions toward some unclear message about the value of honesty and kindness, which never really factor into the actual adventure and keep the status quo firmly unchanged.

There’s no way to escape it– the plotline of One True Loves feels like the other side of Cast Away (2000), but instead of focusing on the survival aspect, it focuses on the wife trying to move on with grief. The original novel portrays Emma moving on through reclaiming her past, and learning to appreciate the roots she’s tried to forget with her lost husband. However, the film adaptation falters in depicting the personal, inner world of Emma, as it bungles through the timelines with Hallmark-esque quotes and disarranged scenes. It tries to save the film through its star-studded cast, but their decent performances can’t save the way the film is structured.

After a strong first act that has lots of fun playing with fake identities donned by its characters (and with a particularly entertaining supporting turn from Bill Nighy), Role Play slows down significantly and only ends up spinning its wheels. In its attempt to inject some more drama into the central relationship between Anna (who goes by Emma with her family) and Dave, the film articulates itself awkwardly, overemphasizes the obvious, and loses precious time for the plot develop in interesting ways. By the third act, Role Play practically teleports itself into entirely new circumstances, where the emotional stakes are neither high enough or clear enough to begin with.

When a plot is centered around women learning about self-respect, it’s usually a cliche, but it can be a fun and harmless story that we can enjoy, if it has enough heart. Still Fabulous has this general plotline, with a raunchy twist in the form of a porn star guardian angel, but the way the film plays out just misses the mark. There are fun moments, but Maddalena doesn’t do the work to find the things about herself that she actually likes about herself, possibly because the film isn’t as interested in her as it is with Valentina Nappi. Instead, even when the message is to love and appreciate one’s body, they have a body double for the stunning Diana del Bufalo, and even when it’s pointed out to her how she depends on external validation, the film ends with a relationship to validate Maddalena. Pensati Sexy sabotages itself the same way Maddalena does.

About My Father is clearly intended to be a cringe comedy a la Meet the Parents (it even features Robert De Niro as another grumpy dad), but it stretches the concept of “funny” so thin that the memory of that scene in which a cat pees on the contents of a smashed urn will feel like dizzying comic heights in comparison. The premise — an Italian-American man struggles to win the acceptance of his WASPish in-laws — might have made sense 100 years ago, but today, it strikes as farfetched. Even without that weak foundation, much of About My Father has a shaky grasp on what makes a movie work. The screenplay feels like the product of crudely stitching together several over-manufactured set-pieces, with the result being an almost total lack of fluidity and characters who often contradict themselves.

The film starts out on its worst foot: star–co-writer Sebastian Maniscalco lays the voiceover on thick, while Sebastian’s brash Sicilian father Salvo (De Niro) is so unceasingly negative that it turns a presence that should be great into one that’s only grating. Though it does find something of a footing as a saccharine family drama in its back half, it’s much too little, too late.

There is a clear and wide gap between what Maximum Truth wants to be and what it actually is. What it wants to be is a silly but smart sendup of right-wing activism and the rampant disinformation the movement propels. What it ends up being is an occasionally funny but mostly tiresome film that falls flat thanks to caricature performances and flimsy arguments that essentially work against the film’s supposed ideals. In a self-contradictory twist, it actually helps the conservatives it claims to poke fun at by proving just how dumb liberal humor can be. The running gag about Rick being in the closet feels outdated at best and offensive at worst, while Simon being the typical airheaded jock does nothing to subvert the trope. It’s baffling that a film like this could come out in 2023; ultimately it just seems like a terrible waste of everyone’s time. 

Unfortunately, it isn’t enough to have cartoonishly attractive people do silly things in the name of love for an entire feature film. This premise is undeniably fun at first: the pace is snappy, the locations are pretty, and there are more than a few intentional laughs buried within the film’s fast-paced dialogue. But the longer Love Tactics 2 goes on, the more idiotic its characters seem and the more it feels like they don’t actually deserve the love they supposedly earned in the previous movie. It greatly underestimates how frustrating it is to watch people fail to communicate over and over again, not out of any goodwill, but out of pure pride and jealousy. Sure, the leads provide plenty of eye candy, but after seeing how little they actually get to work with, watching them becomes an act of secondhand embarrassment.

What a waste of a premise, and what a waste of Woodley’s talents. Based on the short story “The Robot Who Looked Like Me” by Robert Sheckley, Robots has some clever things to say about the state of advanced tech and its role in society, but its clumsy, heavyhanded approach fumbles the execution. There’s an awkward and unfinished feel to Robots that doesn’t make anything about it believable—not the technology, not the convoluted story, and certainly not the romance. And except for Woodley, none of the characters seem likable. The male-dominated cast makes constant jokes about fatness and femininity, presumably for the sake of satire, but they end up participating in the very things they’re supposedly calling out. It’s not nearly as smart nor as charming as it thinks it is, and if you’re looking for an alternative, I would recommend the far superior German film I’m Your Man, which accomplishes everything Robots tries to be and more. 

For almost the entirety of its runtime, Old Dads feels like it has something it’s desperately trying to prove. But while the millennial generation and a newfound popular interest in political correctness are ripe for satire, this film chooses the lowest hanging fruit possible to make jokes about—inventing one senseless situation after another in order to laugh at people’s “sensitivity” with little energy or wit. The main cast has tried and tested talent, but the material they’re working with feels more artificial and whiny than truly perceptive of today’s generational clashes. The movie tries to manufacture some sort of dramatic realization by the end, but it hardly changes the protagonists anyway. A film need not be PC to be good, of course, but it should at least stand for something instead of simply standing against so much.

It’s admirable how A Taste of Love keeps to the gentle pace of a slice-of-life story instead of blowing things up with unnecessary drama, but it’s ultimately just too thinly drawn for any of its moments to become charming in their simplicity. There’s nothing particularly wrong with any of its plot threads—emotionally they’re all pretty level-headed and easy to understand—they just don’t seem to coexist for any reason, or within any larger framework. As a result, spending time with this film doesn’t just feel like hanging out with total strangers, but hanging out with people who are strangers to each other as well.

Ricky Stanicky has all the ingredients of a zany romp: an insane premise, a cast of well-oiled comedians, and most notably, a veteran of the game, Peter Farrelly (Dumb and Dumber, There’s Something About Mary), at the helm of it all. And yet Ricky Stanicky falls unbelievably flat. For starters, there is zero chemistry between the trio who we’re supposed to believe are lifelong friends. And despite his Rolodex of disguises, John Cena is a one-trick pony here who can’t carry this film on his own. The joke is that he’s big and scary but can act pretty soft, but it gets tiring eventually. If I were you, I’d save myself some time and watch this SNL skit where Emma Stone plays a serious actress hoping to make her big break in a porn video instead. It captures the essence of what Ricky Stanicky wants to be, but the difference is, it’s actually funny.

If you’re looking at posters and stills of this film thinking, “I know exactly what will happen here,” you’re right. Whatever it is, you’re right. Mother of the Bride is the type of vacation-wedding movie that’s been done a thousand times better before. But a generic premise is one thing; it’s easy to forgive cliches when you’re doing it right and giving the audience something else to look forward to, be it hilarity or romance. Being generic and lazy, however, is a different and less forgivable thing. Brooke Shields is the only one who feels like she’s truly acting here as she physically and emotionally throws herself into a character who is, sadly, too thinly written to deserve this much effort. If you’re still wondering whether the movie’s worth playing for the sake of Mother’s Day, just know that you’re better off reading Hallmark cards—they’re way less sappy and require only half the effort to go through.

Like posters and stills of Space Cadet suggest, the film is cute and, occasionally, fun. Emma Roberts is bubbly and funny enough to carry the feature-length movie on her back, and the visuals, which are shock of Lisa Frank glittery pink, elevate an otherwise bland landscape. But the film doesn’t reach far enough into the sky to be the truly weird and out-there film it could be. Instead, it relies on implausible plot lines and go-girl messages to become yet another flatly inspiring film about how anyone can be anything if they just believed in themselves. Space Cadet proves that Legally Blone meets Apollo 11 has potential, but it’s not the film meant to land the idea home.

The fourth Kandasamys installment may only appeal to viewers who’ve been there from the beginning, but no matter your history with the South African Indian series, The Baby really offers far too little. With unconvincing third-act drama and extremely loose connection tissue between scenes, it becomes very difficult to see what the point of all this is, unless you are truly charmed by the bickering of this dysfunctional family. Unfortunately there isn’t any wit to the clashing of personalities here; these are characters who aren’t even trying to get on the same page, so set in their stubborn ways that it becomes infuriating to watch them butt heads for no good reason.

With uninteresting characters and an aggressively bland story right from the start, Choose Love fails to establish any stakes worth caring about, no matter what choices we make throughout. Any sense of novelty from playing this choose-your-own-romcom vanishes once you notice how certain decision points lead to the exact same idea, or are blatantly disregarded by the character you “control” anyway. Choice is a complete illusion here, and the fact that we’re only asked to participate when it comes to some of the most inane dilemmas only highlights how the film’s protagonist isn’t acting like a rational, adult human being with any self-respect or regard for others. Sure, people are inherently flawed and it can be fun to see how disastrous this situation can get through our own manipulation, but by the end there’s still no believable spark to be found. It feels like a cop-out no matter what.

Though it tries to root itself in the relatable situation of comparing oneself to others amid the often forced positivity of the Christmas season, Best. Christmas. Ever!’s disparate parts are so carelessly thrown together that it’s hard to take any of it seriously. Potential conflicts in the marriages of its two central couples are tonally incompatible with the film’s corny humor and a Miracle on 34th Street-esque subplot about the adults’ children trying to prove that Santa is real. This is a totally mixed stew of Christmas movie tropes without rhyme or reason, which would have had a chance to at least be campy if its actors weren’t phoning it in either.

An interesting premise quickly sputters out in Fool’s Paradise, writer-star Charlie Day’s misfire of a directorial debut. Day plays a down-and-out Charlie Chaplin-esque mute who happens to be a dead ringer for a difficult method actor (also Day) who’s stalling production on a Billy the Kid remake — and so he’s brought in by the movie’s producer (Ray Liotta) to star instead. 

The rest of Fool’s Paradise follows in this vein, as things just happen to Latte Pronto (as he comes to be named). There’s wry satirical potential in this set-up: a lot can be revealed about someone (in this case, the self-serving stars, agents, and directors of Hollywood) by what they project onto a blank slate like Latte. The problem, however, is twofold: Fool’s Paradise doesn’t have anything especially sharp to say about the biz — and, in the absence of clever or indeed funny writing, the film’s weak center is exposed. Day’s wordless performance is understated to a fatal degree; presumably designed to highlight the ridiculousness of the Hollywood players he’s surrounded by, it only shows up the weakness of the material and the unfocusedness of some of the key supporting performances. Maybe the movie would’ve fared better had some of its other characters been silent instead.

With actual, real life married couples killing each other after lottery wins, the premise of Kill Me If You Dare had plenty of potential. The situation alone makes people wonder why that unexpected windfall kills the love between a married couple. The film instead is less interested in examining that journey, and more interested in using the premise as a way to contrive ungrounded, pointless suspicion towards each other, when they could have easily talked about things, like adults. But even with the silly suspicion, there’s no charm, comedy, or chemistry to find endearing in the couple– all we’re given is that they’re married, Piotr aggressively skimps for the mortgage, and Natalie has a dream for a café that doesn’t make sense considering we never see her make coffee. Kill Me If You Dare just feels lazily assembled, with no interest in being romantic or comedic.

Though it’ll likely have more to offer for those who enjoyed the original Nickelodeon series that ran from 2014 to 2018, The Thundermans Return still does mournfully little with its feature length. There are some promising ideas here relating to what one’s responsibility should be as members of a family, but any heart in the story is buried underneath weak attempts at action and painfully stilted humor—which is only made worse by the laugh track running through much of the film. Even in the oversaturated arena of American superhero movies, this one doesn’t have relatable enough characters for teenagers and older kids to relate to, nor does it have enough mindless, poorly shot action for the younger kids.

If it’s been said about one American stand-up comedian, it’s been said about a dozen of them: just because a joke is edgy doesn’t mean it’s brave, nor does it mean it’s actually a well-written joke. Throughout this hour-long special, Mike Epps rambles from one topic to another with little sense of direction, usually resorting to making fun of a vulnerable group, or making dull “observations” about relationships and everyday life when he hits a wall. There’s no real perspective to what he says here, not even an attempt to criticize more progressive points of view. It’s hard to see what’s so funny about somebody stating the obvious loudly and arrogantly.

Making a heist so unoriginal and uneventful is a feat, and Gold Brick manages to do both without missing a beat. None of the characters are particularly interesting or distinct enough to remember their names. The idea of stealing from a big corporation (usually a solid setup) has no bite because the motivations feel hollow and unrealized. Most of the “ingenious” slight of hands and master plans don’t impress or stick, and later plot points’ payoffs stay as lackluster as their setups. Crisp, saturated cinematography is pleasant on the eyes but not enough to stop them from glazing over.

Even before its characters get to Europe, Bawaal sets itself up as a truly ludicrous romantic comedy, completely unmoored from any common sense or internal logic, and with the most cartoonishly awful protagonist at its center. There isn’t a single convincing story idea here, from the way Ajay’s students learn from and idolize him despite his complete lack of teaching ability, to the way he treats his wife Nisha like dirt after learning she has epilepsy. Movies about scoundrels aren’t unwelcome, but it feels as if there hasn’t been any thought put into how Ajay views other people and the self-image he so desperately wants to protect—and even less thought seems to have been put into the hilariously shallow ways Ajay “earns” redemption by the end.

But then the characters get to Europe, and Bawaal inexplicably becomes a history lesson about the atrocities of World War II, which are briefly recreated in corny and at times tastelessly done fantasy sequences. The idea that these grown adults who have access to knowledge and pop culture are only now finding out that genocide is bad is nothing short of mind-numbing. Even worse is how Bawaal ignores every difficult and painful truth we’ve learned and continue to learn from World War II, and reduces so much suffering into a contrived moral lesson about how we should accept each other’s flaws and learn to forgive. No matter the efforts of its lead actors or the quality of the production values on display, the film just can’t overcome the bad taste it leaves in the mouth.

Satire or not, 70 minutes of jokes about demographic cohorts is a lot to sit through. But if it is satire, it only leans into exaggeration. There is no irony or humor, and there’s definitely no commentary on anything substantial. And a boomer dad going on a millennial killing spree would only be a funny premise for a 5-minute short, which this film, unfortunately, isn’t. And although it’s set in the modern day, the generalizations and jokes feel tired, dated, and uninspiring. Yes, there’s inter-generation beef, and some of it is ridiculous, but a little commentary on why the divides exist would have made up for the lack of chuckles and saved us all some time.

Not to be confused with the Taiwanese remake, Hello Ghost is the Indonesian adaptation of the 2010 Korean hit. There is one thing to appreciate in this film– it’s clear that the cast, particularly Kresna and his four ghosts, have an easygoing dynamic and playful chemistry with each other. However, the film botches our introduction with their characters. Instead of acknowledging his struggles, Hello Ghost tries to skip straight to the ghosts’ antics and the romance between Kresna and Linda. Without that character set-up, the film’s jokes fall flat, and comes across as an insensitive depiction of suicide and mental illness.

Christmas is a common setting for romance stories, because it’s obviously the best time to warm up… if you know what we mean. (Warm drinks, sweet treats, and snuggling with loved ones, of course.) Christmas as Usual seems to go along that vein, as Thea brings home her fiancé Jashan to meet the parents, and he tries to impress her family, as these family Christmas romances tend to go. This obviously brings about the relatable romantic troubles that anyone can empathize with, so it’s a bit of a shock when Thea’s Norwegian family treats Jashan so badly that it seems more insidious than good ol’ concern over their daughter. Had the story been approached with more sensitivity, Christmas as Usual would have been outstanding, but its current version never really questions the racism of the Norwegian family, or the passive way Thea just lets it all happen.

Brothers is simply a bad film. The jokes are mediocre and the plot is thin, if not invisible. The only thing it has going for it is the cast, who, individually are great but together, in this film, are unbelievably unfunny. Except perhaps for Glenn Close, who seems to be the only one capable enough to sell her character. Everyone else is either over-the-top bad—you can count Marisa Tomei and Brendan Fraser in this category—or zero-effort bad—here you can include the leads. I can’t imagine anyone enjoying the experience of watching this movie, much less having the stomach to finish it. But maybe a few cinephiles who grew up adoring The Goonies or Tarzan will enjoy some of the references made. Otherwise, you’d do well to hide this movie from your homepage. If you can ask Prime Video to never recommend it to you ever again, even better.

There is a germ of an idea here, and executed well, Sheroes had the potential to be camp and crude and unapologetically fun in the way only films about female friendship can be (see: Girls Trip, Booksmart, Bridesmaids). Instead, with what looks like a negative production budget and zero commitment from the cast, the resulting film is unwatchably bad. The needle drops are excessive, the cinematography is straight out of a stock image site (what a waste of Thailand’s vibrant beauty!), and the acting, if you can call it that, is wholly unbelievable, with perhaps Isabelle Fuhrman and Skai Jackson standing out as the only exceptions. The chemistry of these so-called friends feels canned, making their montages of supposed fun look stiff and stilted. We’re supposed to believe these girls who can’t even hug right are friends? They’re out here dipping in the pool and sipping beers while thinking of ways to save their tied-up-in-the-middle-of-nowhere friend, so again I ask, we’re supposed to believe they’re best friends? Let’s be real, because this film surely isn’t.