What we have here is another of those movies with the mentality of an episode of Dancing with the D-List Stars, only stuffed instead with B- and C-list stars, most of whom do not dance, but are either pregnant or have had a hand (or some body part) in the pregnancies. The whole thing is “inspired by” some self-help books that one reviewer termed “classics” — thereby knocking the word “classic” down another peg on the path to meaninglessness. The theory, however, seems to be that everyone is fascinated by pregnancy and babies, and that if you amass enough people whose names can’t sell a movie on their own, the sheer quantity will do the trick. Judging by the lackluster box office on opening day, it’s better as a theory than in actual practice. The film at hand is nothing but an assemblage of various characters, most of them only tenuously connected, who are somehow involved in having a baby, or, in one case, adopting one. Since no one could really figure out how to connect them all, the filmmakers came up with this idea of a “daddy club” where fathers get together and wander aimlessly through a park with their offspring to kvetch about fatherhood. It’s mostly unfunny and serves no actual purpose other than giving Chris Rock something to do. Unfortunately, it didn’t bother giving Rock any material to do it with, and since his character is otherwise superfluous, it only adds to the typically overlong running time.
Director: Kirk Jones
Writer: Shauna Cross
Cast: Cameron Diaz, Elizabeth Banks, Anna Kendrick, Dennis Quaid, Jennifer Lopez, Brooklyn Decker, Chace Crawford and Rodrigo Santoro
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