Melissa McCartney
Normally I eschew McCarthy vehicles for their overheated preoccupation with fat luggage and morose sexism. But this Feig script contains more jokes per square inch than a Steven Wright phone message, and Jude Law’s hairpiece wins James Bond rug of the year. (Was there an Allison Janney before Allison Janney, the JT Walsh of women?) Jason Statham hurls epithets of macho delusion, and we note the use of Second City’s great stripper, Sam Richardson, whose lines were inexplicably shorn. The unctuous Peter Serafinowicz, slumming Italian, utters the shaggiest tit joke in the history of film.