SEX TAPE: I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you
  • SEX TAPE: I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you

Most critics are just writing Sex Tape off as a terrible, ineptly constructed attempt at a raunchy summer comedy. That's probably the right thing to do. It's really bad, you guys, like the first attempt at an R-Rated sitcom written by a first-year ESL class. There are punchlines to non-jokes like "Nostracockus," a penis that can see the future. I honestly don't know how this level of talent—Jake Kasdan, director of the criminally underrated Zero Effect and Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story; writers Jason Segel and Nicholas Stoller, who also wrote Forgetting Sarah Marshall and The Muppets—turns in a work as lame and underachieving as this one.

I didn't laugh once at Sex Tape. And I'm not alone. Everyone, seemingly, hates Sex Tape. How is a movie about two rich fuckers—a mommy-blogger and a man vaguely employed in the music industry somehow—who give out iPads to their friends, family, and acquaintances like candy on Halloween even remotely accessible to a mainstream movie-going audience? Who cares about these idiots and their rich-people problems, with their willingness to buy all the newest, shiniest Apple products, but without a desire to understand even the most basic rules of how computers work? (It is an Apple commercial, make no mistake, and the characters stop the story repeatedly to gush about the iPad's sturdy construction and excellent resolution and amazing camera.) Who cares about their boring friends (Ellie Kemper and Rob Corddry, two of the most talented, and poorly used, comedic supporting actors in the business right now) or their CEO boss who lives in huge mansion but—get this—listens to hiphop! (That's Rob Lowe, who is the closest thing to a bright spot in this darkest midnight of the soul.) This movie parades everything that everyone hates about white people around on screen for ninety minutes and pretends to be a professional movie made by professional human beings. What it is, is an embarrassment.

One day in the distant future, after humanity collapses and a few generations pass and a handful of survivors finally figure out how to work DVDs again, they'll watch a battered copy of Sex Tape and they'll hate us for our wastefulness and our narcissism and our blatant stupidity. I don't blame you one bit, future humans. Hating us is the only sane response.