Such acronyms proliferate throughout The Love Guru, which, despite nearly universally negative reviews, I wound up watching yesterday due to circumstances beyond my control. I sat through an hour and a half of jokes about penises, farts, boogers, testicles, poop, and probscine copulation. And you know what?
I actually sort of almost enjoyed it. Kinda.
Certainly, there was hardly any plot to speak of, and that wisp of story was so often lost among the random juvenile silliness that it was impossible to care about it. And yes, Myers’ flailings, ramblings, and winks at the camera were often far more pandering than ingratiating. Further, every shot with Verne Troyer is filled with such senseless slurs and violence that I choked more often than I laughed. Even a small part by one of my personal heroes, Stephen Colbert, was painful and unfunny. Amidst all that, I still found something to enjoy. The secret?
Very low expectations.
I didn’t expect to be drawn into an engrossing story. I didn’t expect to meet quirky, original characters. I only expected wave after wave of sophomoric toilet humor, and boy, did the film deliver on that! I was a bit embarassed more than once at what set me laughing. Here’s an example: at one point, to help the Toronto Maple Leafs’ star player “revert to his childhood,” Myers makes sustained diarrhea noises in a coffee cup. I thought that was hysterical. I should not be allowed in public.
In short, I can’t recommend that anyone spend ten dollars on this movie. However, if you find yourself roped into it like I did, you might as well enjoy what dumbed-down silliness there is to be had. Remember the old adage: “If you have no expectations, you will never be disappointed.”
Oddly enough, those words don’t show up in the movie.
Allusions of Grandeur 