It’s a deliberate choice to be silly that can make you laugh until you’re stupid, and it’s rare when such a movie isn’t embarrassing. But when you can describe a film as “silly” without rolling your eyes, you might be talking about something special—a movie that wants to be funny and still holds your attention.
The early Marx Brothers films were masterclasses in sustained silliness. The In-Laws (my favorite American comedy) follows a completely normal guy who gets entangled with a total lunatic and ends up facing a firing squad in a banana republic ruled by another eccentric who talks with a face he draws on his hand (if you’re old enough, you’ll know what I mean—Señor Wences).
Then there’s Airplane!, the pinnacle of absurdist comedy. In one throwaway moment, a transplant surgeon at the Mayo Clinic sits in front of a bookcase filled with jars of Hellmann’s while a disembodied heart jumps around his desk.
In recent years, silly movies have been scarce. The best example is 2021’s Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar—a Kristen Wiig film about two small-town friends who end up at the wrong motel in Florida, clash with a global villainess, argue over a himbo, meet Tommy Bahama, and are saved by a water sprite played by Reba McEntire. It was glorious, though few saw it due to the pandemic.
So here’s my challenge: go see Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass, now playing this weekend. This film sustains its silliness for 93 minutes—like all such comedies, it goes anywhere and does anything. Like There’s Something About Mary, Gail Daughtry has a straightforward plot that’s elevated by absurdity.
The story follows a small-town Kansas girl who is about to marry her high school sweetheart when she discovers him with another woman—and decides to have one last fling before the wedding. The twist? Her fiancé has a moment with a famous person (I won’t name him) after they discuss which star would excuse their beloved for straying. It’s Jon Hamm, and she plans to fly to Los Angeles to use her “celebrity sex pass” with him.
This becomes a demented takeoff on The Wizard of Oz. Our heroine is Dorothy (remember: in that story, Dorothy’s last name was Gale—Gail, get it?). The scarecrow is her partner at a hair salon. The tin man is a disgraced paparazzo whose career collapsed decades ago when he couldn’t photograph Hamm. And the lion? Actor John Slattery, who costarred with Hamm on Mad Men and now lives in a garage in East L.A., shadow-boxing and writing desperate texts to Hamm.
They set off to find Hamm at the Chateau Marmont Hotel on Sunset Boulevard, pursued by a wicked witch—an Italian woman with unlimited resources trying to collapse the global financial system.
Slattery shines as the hilarious, self-deprecating Hamm. Cowriter Ken Marino delivers demented grace as the paparazzo. Zoey Deutch, who previously starred in Voicemails for Isabelle, is incandescent here—she grounds the film in realism before diving into its full-throttle absurdity.
Marino wrote with director David Wain, whom they’ve collaborated with for 25 years since Wet Hot American Summer. That film was a silly comedy with a strong premise but suffered from visual clumsiness. Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass is Wain’s seventh feature—a movie that has achieved the command he lacked in 2001 regarding pacing, look, and feel.
It provides 93 minutes of laughter that leaves you momentarily stupid.