“Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass” - This is what they mean by a crime against film.

The concept of the celebrity sex pass was popularized on an episode of Friends. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, a celebrity sex pass is a list of celebrities you’re allowed to have sex with, should the opportunity arise, and your significant other isn’t allowed to get mad about it. It works as a two-minute joke in a television episode because it was written by people who have incredible senses of humor. It does not work as a ninety-minute gag and homage to The Wizard of Oz – end of sentence. After slogging through Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass, I’m quite certain that the writers haven’t the faintest idea what comedy is.

When I say slogging through, I mean it took me three sittings to force myself to watch the full movie. My wife quit twenty minutes into the film because she is a lot smarter than I am. And I didn’t sit through it out of a sense of duty as a film critic. Don’t be absurd. I have no issues quitting on movies that I am watching from the comfort of my own couch. I stopped watching Uncut Gems after forty-five minutes of Adam Sandler screaming his lines at me. No...I white-knuckled through Gail Daughtry for two reasons. One, to see how much worse it could get after my wife left the room. Two, to see if Gail succeeds in her quest to fuck Jon Hamm.

Oh right, I haven’t told you the actual plot of Gail Daughtry. Gail (Zoey Deutch) catches her fiance having sex with Jennifer Aniston, so she goes to Hollywood to find Jon Hamm and have sex with him. It’s possible there’s a comedy in there somewhere, but I’m fairly certain the filmmakers have no idea what funny looks or sounds like. Nothing else can explain why they decided to remake The Wizard of Oz by teabagging it.

It isn’t obvious at first that they are doing The Wizard of Oz. Gail is an obnoxiously upbeat hairdresser about to marry her high school sweetheart, Tom Soursap McNoodleman (Micheal Cassidy). That’s seriously his name and we don’t even learn it until the end of the movie, probably because it’s really, really stupid. And the film is narrated by Gail’s mailman (Fred Melamed). Maybe your mailman is hilarious, but I’m pretty sure mailmen are famously not funny.

Speaking of forcing something that isn’t funny, the setup itself is as funny as starving children. Tom’s celebrity sex pass isn’t even Jennifer Aniston, it’s Tilda Swinton. But after they attend a book signing by Aniston, Tom switches his pass to Aniston. Then, he immediately realizes he left his coat and keys in the bookstore, tells Gail he’ll be right back, goes back into the bookstore and doesn’t come back after more than an hour. It’s funny because he abandoned Gail in a parking lot and she just waits there for him. Get it?

After catching Tom and Jennifer literally mid-thrust (and standing there as they justify it during a really cringy explanation), Gail jets off to Hollywood from her little rural Kansas town, accompanied by her friend and coworker Otto (Miles Gutierrez-Riley). Yes, Kansas. And her name is Gail. And his name is an anagram of Toto. Trust me, the joke is not for us, it’s on us.

But again, the Oz thing isn’t actually that obvious in the moment. Those things I just mentioned didn’t click with me until much later in the movie or completely after it. When Gail arrives in Hollywood, she accidentally switches identical briefcases with some Italian mobsters at the airport. When the switch is discovered, wildly over-the-top mob boss Ludovica (Sabrina Impacciatore) screams at her henchmen (led by Joe Lo Truglio) to retrieve it. Since the case isn’t red, it’s tough to recognize the ruby slippers analogy. Same goes for the psychic Gail and Otto stop to see, this film’s Glinda the good witch. In fact, for at least half of the movie, it just comes off like a really dumb Nickelodeon Channel movie for teens, complete with some of the worst acting you’ve seen since Sharknado! or everything on The Hallmark Channel. And definitely less funny.

It isn’t until Gail and her band of misfits (of course she picks up a band of misfits along the way; Ben Wang, Ken Marino, John Slattery) show up at Jon Hamm’s room at the Chateau Marmont that I caught onto the Oz gag. Hamm has a doorman that refuses to let the group in, but promises to if they complete a task for Hamm. No, the task doesn’t matter in the slightest and, no, it’s not remotely funny. Just like every single cameo in the film (there are many), every single attempt at a joke, every single attempted riff on The Wizard of Oz. Everything about this movie is the opposite of humor. I don’t know what word means the opposite of humor because that part of my brain killed itself as it absorbed the final scenes of the movie.

Was it worth it for me to grit out this movie? Not even a tiny bit. My two reasons were definitely answered, but neither of the answers were satisfying. And I still haven’t figured out the reason for the mailman. Probably because my brain is dead now.

Rating: Ask for all of your money back, double if you powered through the entire film.