The honey shot

Zack and Miri Make a Porno

Crit

OK, I never saw Jersey Girl, so I can't say for a fact that I've now seen Kevin Smith's gooeyest, most sentimental film ever, but I've certainly seen the gooeyest, most sentimental film I hope ever to see from Silent Bob. Don't worry: that's not bodily fluids dripping from you as you rise from your seat; it's just syrup.

That said, I didn't hate it: Seth Rogen can pretty much always charm me, and there were lots of yuks (and one extraordinary yuck that will have you shying away from your videocam). I gotta say, though: Elizabeth Banks just doesn't do it for me; excuse me if I'm repeating myself from Definitely, Maybe and 40-Year-Old Virgin reviews (actually found her tolerable in W.), but that's one bland blonde, not appealing in any way.

But you're wanting to know how it rates on the Peter Meter: well, we see lots of the outlandish silicone of Katie Morgan (for whom this was, per IMDb, the 184th film and the first that didn't go straight to video; you could look it up), we see momentary boobage of a few other strippers, we see one brief full-frontal of a young woman I assume was Lena Cheney (Auditioning Girl in the cast list), and we see enough of Jason Mewes to fuel months of nightmares, if not a long stretch in therapy. But really, it's not about that. Well, it's about that, but it's not. It's, like, a first-date movie if you want to find out far more about her or him than it's generally wise to learn on a first date.

Oh, and you already know this if you're even as moderate a Kevin Smith fan as I, but no matter how badly you need to pee, don't leave when the end credits start.