Dude, Where's My Car? review

Pair a helmer of screwy TV shows with a writer of US sitcoms and, given a long enough timeline, you'll eventually locate a previously untapped reservoir of talent that gives the film industry a much needed shot in the arm of new ideas and boundless energy. Mostly though, you'll end up with turgid D-list rubbish like Dude, Where's My Car?, the stillborn brainchild of helmer Danny Leiner (Felicity) and scripter Philip Stark (That '70s Show). It's enough to make you wonder who gave it the go-ahead, why someone didn't realise it was terrible while they were making it and how anyone at 20th Century Fox can sleep at night knowing they released it, when the only humane act would have been to incinerate every copy.

Quirky title aside, Dude, Where's My Car? is an alleged "stoner comedy". Alleged in the sense that there isn't a single belly laugh in the whole movie, and that although characters keep saying that they're stoners, the two leads are remarkably drug-free for the duration. Which pretty much sums up the courage of the film-makers' convictions.

By curious casting quirks, the "hot chick" babes are as alluring as the Spice Girls, the teenage meathead and his prom queen girlfriend characters are played by actors in their mid-30s and in an apparent in-joke, the twin girlfriends don't look like each other. Now that's comedy.

Creaky old `classics' (a Frenchman in a beret, some Swedish homosexuals, a fat cop etc) are all wheeled out to no real effect, and when true novelties do appear, they're thrown away without so much as a giggle. Think of an amusing situation involving ostriches, lap-dancing or bubble wrap suits, and be confident in the knowledge that if your idea's funny, it isn't in Dude, Where's My Car?

Don't be fooled. This isn't Bill & Ted, Dumb & Dumber or Cheech & Chong. It is, quite simply, unwatchable.