Wedding Crashers

It is almost a truth universally acknowledged that movies with the word ‘wedding’ in the title suck. With a few notable exceptions – Monsoon Wedding, A Wedding, er, I’ll get back to you – this benighted sub-genre seems to lazily assume that dress-fittings, confetti and wacky family goings-on will get the punters in (or at least the punteresses with punters dutifully in tow) regardless of plot, dialogue or any of the usual extravagances.
In a year when we’ve already been ineptly visited by The Wedding Planner, Wedding Crashers proves a much better bet. Pitched somewhere between Animal House and Flirting With Disaster, Crashers sees Vaughn and Wilson’s militant bachelors touring the wedding reception circuit, scoring chicks and guzzling free champagne.
Their scheme comes a cropper when they get a little too close to two bridesmaids (McAdams and Fisher), precipitating an uncomfortable outbreak of conscience.
Some of the ensuing gags are a little disposable – they weren’t up all night writing the weird gay brother subplot, that’s for sure – and Wilson’s pairing with McAdams tends toward standard rom-com stickiness. Shame too that the script has little use for Christopher Walken’s demi-aristocratic Father Of The Bridesmaid; all we get is happy Fat Boy Slim Christopher when the True Romance version could have really added some bang.
Still, it would be difficult to imagine anyone not getting down to Crashers. Owen Wilson’s twice-broken nose – a proboscis I’ve seen grown women snivel over – and Vaughn’s wicked and constant patter make for viciously decent company, the jokes are pretty damn good and the deft mix of girlie mores and blokishness make it the perfect date movie for scoring or dumping purposes. Both if you’re feeling adventurous. Frat-tastic.
Running time 119mins. Cert 15a. Opens july 14