Say It Isn't So
Ever since the Farrelly brothers established in "There's Something About Mary" that jizz in the hair and penises caught in zippers were the funniest things since potatoes shaped like Richard Nixon, other filmmakers have been trying to recreate the Farrelly's success -- without much luck.
Even the Farrelly brothers themselves have failed to recreate it, "Me Myself and Irene" being the prime example. However, when studios try to suggest that a film might be Farrelly-like and hold the tantalizing promise of jizz jokes, they stick the Farrelly brothers' name on it as producers. Such is the case with "Say it Isn't So."
I assume that the studio simply pays the Farrelly brothers a couple hundred thousand dollars to reprint their names in the credits, essentially telegraphing this message to the prospective teenage audience: "Hey, look! This film has all sorts of poo-poo and wee-wee humor in it! Come see it!" Why they don't just actually print that very line on the poster and save themselves some money is anybody's guess. The director of this film is James B. Rogers. The writers are Peter Gaulke and Gerry Swallow (undoubtedly a pseudonym). Gerry should have adopted the name Jack Squat, which is a better representation of the collective experience of this celebrated team.
This film is basically a result of somebody postulating, "Wouldn't it be funny if..." and then writing a story around the joke. In other words, "Wouldn't it be funny if a double-amputee got hit by a car and his legs were knocked off?" or "Wouldn't it be funny if a guy met a beautiful girl, slept with her, and they turned out to be brother and sister?" or "Wouldn't it be funny if Sally Field wore pants so tight you could see the blood coursing through her labial veins?" If you're at a loss for the answer, consult Munch's "The Scream".
This film is doubly stupid because when Gilly Noble (Chris Klein) sleeps with Jo Wingfield (Heather Graham) and discovers she might be his sister, virtually every joke that follows has little or nothing to do with the story. The characters just run through the jokes much like Gilly runs though Dig McCaffey (Orlando Jones) and knocks his legs off, or like stroke victim Walter Wingfield (Richard Jenkins) runs through the swarm of bees. These filmmakers would be better off in a run-down bar where they can tell their flaccid jokes while drunks can pass the time by flinging empty beer bottles at them.
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