If I go to a funny movie, I usually elbow the hell out of who’s with me. My friend Becca thinks it’s to make sure whomever I’m with doesn’t miss the joke. Up until yesterday when I saw “I Love You, Man,” I think Nancy had the worst with-Tina movie experience. When I saw “The Host,” which is both funny and scary, I think I like gripped her forearm to death and I definitely slapped myself in my face at least once. (It had very scary parts.) “I Love You, Man” was hilarious. Went with Husband and whenever there was a part that made me laugh hard or uncomfortable, I would push his head off his neck. (Or I guess, more like away from his neck. Nothing fell off.) Luckily, he didn’t get mad.
The New York Times didn’t seem to think much of “I Love You, Man.” But then sometimes, I think critics should really try to write or take an acting class so they can really understand who’s good or not. They rated Paul Rudd as having a limited range, and I don’t think they get it. He has a lot of bits where he’s trying to fit in with other guys by giving them nicknames, which is painful and believable. Andy Sandberg, who plays his brother, is not really anything noteworthy. So go ahead and say Andy Sandberg is limited as an actor, because it’s true, but Paul Rudd? Dude, try again.