Review of The 40-Year-Old Virgin

It’s not often that I find a movie that is irredeemable. Normally, I can eke out some pleasure or positive out of just about any movie. Strangely, I’ve encountered two utterly worthless movies in one week: Mr. and Mrs. Smith and The 40-Year-Old Virgin. I’ll spare you a review of the former—mostly because writing a review of one boring movie is enough.

I was truly looking forward to watching this movie because everyone that’s told me about it has been positively effusive in describing its hilarity. And I loves the funny. I watched the movie to the end, hoping minute by minute that I would at last encounter something beyond raunchy, over-the-top drivel and being disappointed each time. I don’t mind raunchy and over-the-top so long as it’s not drivel. The 40-Year-Old Virgin, however, was not well-executed, completely unsubtle, and rarely clever.

The story—and it’s really a one-trick pony—is about a guy named Andy who has not had sex at the ripe old age of 40. Some of his co-workers take it upon themselves to end his dry patch. Hilarity ensues. Or, rather, hilarity was supposed to ensue.

At every opportunity, the movie took the vulgar route—the road sadly more travelled. It could have been a touching and funny look at the kind of guy that lives his whole life wanting but never knowing the touch of a woman. Instead, it revels in all the nerd and awkward geek stereotypes it can think of.

I hated this movie.

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