Little Man review

We could go off on a rant at how Little Man is nothing more than a parade of bum, boob and bruised bollock gags. But, then, this is the Wayans, and their box-office-dominating past shows that there’s a more than willing audience for their ever-so-crude comedies. And here they deliver another slick, if soulless, confection – geared towards the gross-out gang and guaranteed to hit the spot for anyone with a wholly disengaged brain. There are a few nods towards a theme (the celebration of family love, slathered with cheap layers of tinkly piano and the woodwind of You Should Be Feeling Something Now), while Little Man’s central concept – a short-arse jewel thief stashes his booty with a couple debating starting a family and then pretends to be an abandoned child – requires clever visual trickery to graft Marlon Wayans’ head onto a child’s body. You’ll be more distracted than delighted.

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