There’s a
conceivable reality in which Sex Tape really works. Director Jake
Kasdan has handled material that alternates between the emotionally real and
comedic before during his time on Freaks and Geeks, and Jason Segel
and Nicholas Stoller (co-writers on this film alongside Kate Angelo) have
proven adept at keeping those plates spinning themselves with their work on Forgetting
Sarah Marshall. And the idea of examining marriage/family and the toll
it can take on the sex lives of those entangled in it is certainly fruitful
ground on which farcical comedy could be based. Unfortunately, we’re getting
the dismal Bad Teacher vintage of Jake Kasdan, leaving us with a largely
unfunny movie whose plays at resonance similarly miss the mark.
Annie (Cameron
Diaz) and Jay (Jason Segel) are in a rut. Their relationship was one originally
built on thoroughly passionate and mutual sexual attraction, but one marriage
and two kids later they find that their time for such sensual connection has
largely evaporated. In an effort to rekindle their spark, Annie comes up with
the idea of videotaping an evening spent plowing through every position listed
in their copy of The Joy of Sex. Much
to their chagrin, the video is shared amongst many of their friends and
acquaintances due to an unfortunate quirk of Jay’s penchant for giving away
used iPads with synchronized content as gifts. And if the logic behind how
their amorous encounter makes its way out into the world feels tortured to you,
don’t worry. The film discards the threats offered by this possible public
humiliation equally haphazardly.
That’s not to
suggest the film isn’t trying as its fringes are populated with comedic
ringers, every one of which is given the opportunity to join in on the fun. Nat
Faxon, Artemis Asteriadis and Kumail Nanjiani all maximize their single scenes
in the movie and make a strong comedic impression. Rob Cordry and Ellie Kemper
as Annie and Jay’s married best friends also do nice work on the periphery, and
Rob Lowe gets to swing for the fences as the CEO aiming to purchase Annie’s
motherhood-based blog during his big scene in the film’s latter stages. But
this is a 90-minute movie, and those performers are only on screen for a minor
fraction of that runtime. This is Diaz and Segel’s show for the most part and
they are not up to the task, generating little heat as a pairing both
comedically and dramatically. The height of this film’s wit is to have each
character be at a loss for words at multiple stages in the film, and those
moments are drenched in flop sweat and play like comedic flailing instead of a
showcase for gifted performers.
Most
disappointing of all is how reserved the movie ends up feeling. I know that
sounds astounding given the subject matter, but for a movie attempting to speak
about sexuality honestly, Sex Tape has no interest in honest
depictions of said acts. One would expect a certain level of frankness from
such a premise (and from a performer like Segel, who has used his own full-frontal
nudity to startlingly comedic effect before). By trying to serve these two
masters (broad comedy and honest intimacy), Sex Tape doesn’t do
justice by either and feels like a farce.
