Imagine Seth Rogen is a saw that was once sharp but has dulled with time and use. Also, its’ sentient and knows it’s getting old. As that saw ages it sees there are better and newer saws available, and it’s going to become obsolete. So, that saw thinks (because he’s sentient), “I don’t want to die. I know what I’ll do, I’ll reinvent myself. I’ll become a hammer.”
Except, saws make shitty hammers. You can’t pound nails with a saw. Not even with the handle, because then you have to hold the blade and you’ll cut all your fingers off and have to hire someone to hold your beer and feed you. The saw is only good at sawing, and when it’s no longer good at that, it’s worthless. Except maybe as a musical instrument in a band you never, ever want to see.
Seth Rogen is an old saw. He was once young enough to cut the logs that of raunchy comedy, schlubby buddy comedy and stoner comedy. There are younger saws now that can cut those logs sharper. Saws that people would rather watch do it because, at a certain time it is just sad to see an old, dull saw working so hard to cut so little. Also, after a certain age you are no longer a lovable loser; you’re just a loser. To be lovable you’d have to be young enough to have a chance at redemption.
Seth Rogen, the saw, must decide what to do next. He’s sentient, so he knows he can’t cut logs like Superbad 2 or Pineapple Express 2, or Zack and Miri Make a Porno 2. Not yet. Not until he loses his last shred of dignity. First, he has to try to reinvent himself as a new and useful tool.
In Long Shot, he tries to be a hammer, futilely flailing at nails as the male lead in a romantic comedy geared toward middle-aged women who listen to Dan Savage podcasts. This is a fake brainy movie served with a calculated dose of raunch, all in the name of trying to differentiate itself from the formulaic shit on the Hallmark Channel, which it is thematically and plot-wise identical to.
Rogen is there pounding nails, trying to reinvent himself, and giving off a weird funk. The movie wants a romantic lead who’s all doughy, begoggled and unkempt. He gets some nails in, but he won’t be able to keep doing it. The novelty of the slob as romantic lead wears off pretty fucking quick. Hell, I If slovenly passed for charm, I’d be Cary Grant. Or, even hotter. I have shit stains on my pants. Mr. Grant never had those.
Rogen plays Fred Flarsky, an angry liberal journalist we first meet as he tries to infiltrate a gang of neo-nazis. When the alternative weekly he works for gets bought by a Rupert Murdoch-style media tycoon (Andy Serkis), he quits rather than tone down his self-righteous indignation. In a meet cute moment that involves Boyz II Men (I shit you not), he is reunited with his childhood babysitter Charlotte Field, who now is the young, attractive and ambitious Secretary of State (Charlize Theron). She needs a speechwriter and thinks his schlubby and angry style is just what she needs.
It doesn’t make a lot of sense. Charlotte’s supposed to be really smart, but the movie doesn’t explore this much beyond having people tell us she is. She’s supposed to be ambitious, too, but apparently very bad at hiring decisions. This is a shitty romantic comedy, though, so you’re supposed to treat it like a retarded dog and love it no matter how many times it pees on the carpet.
Flarsky and Field travel to the world’s political hotspots and she campaigns for an environmental policy that the movie is too big a pussy to put any definition to (because it might offend some ticket-buyer to take a position). Her goal is to be the next president, and he is going to write funny jokes to get her there.
Love blooms, but it’s a forbidden love because Flarsky looks like cookie batter the cat sat on: doughy and hairy. Charlotte’s handlers worry that if the world knows she humps guys like that they won’t vote for her. So, Charlotte must make a big decision: to pursue her dream of changing the world as president or follow her heart and keep boning the schlub.
But wait, perhaps there is a third option: to screw Flarsky and be president! Is it possible? In Long Shot it is. Charlotte makes the brave choice of having everything!
Just like in every shitty Hallmark movie, Long Shot spends two hours pretending it won’t end with the most obvious outcome. It’s got the suspense and tension of cold spaghetti. But this movie is playing it safe. Yeah, it’s got a few funny jokes, but they’re spoken by so many fucking cliches: the cold ambitious woman whose heart melts, the supportive and wealthy best friend who acts as a deus ex machina who can make anything happen, the snarling and villainous boss, and on and on.
And this is not the tool Seth Rogen should be. This is a one off, a novelty for the ladies in the Hallmark crowd. They will quickly tire of him in favor of guys with nice abs. He needs to stop trying to be a hammer and figure out how to be useful.
Long Shot can pretend it’s edgy and different because people say fuck a lot. Saying fuck is easy, though. Trust me, I know. I fucking know. Two Fingers.