You, Me And Dupree review

Randy Dupree. That’s Owen Wilson’s character. It’s a very silly name. You will never, ever meet anyone so-named. Thankfully, the tagline (“Two’s company. Dupree’s a crowd”) makes everything clear: it’s been chosen solely to shoehorn in the daftest promo line since the pimpers of porn-homage Inrearendence Day dreamt up: “In the end, we all cum together.”

And the shoehorning doesn’t end with the film, as it’s essentially a good-natured rom-com crammed with gross-out arse, shit and wank gags, iced off with heaps of sex-wars set pieces. It may look like the new Wedding Crashers (Wilson and pal struggle to leave each other behind, woman gets in the way, hilarity ensues), but You, Me And Dupree often veers more into American Pie territory, with everyone shifted up from college into their first jobs. Or, in the case of Dupree, on their umpteenth dole cheque, preferring to obsess over ditzy diversions (in his case a Lance Armstrong fetish) rather than grind for the man.

Wilson keeps the film together, outgrowing his stupid name to deliver another performance of scene-stealing bonhomie. “Dupree was born on the wrong island,” jokes Dillon’s starch-shirted Carl as his best man turns up late for his nuptials, but it’s the crooked-nosed one you yearn for whenever Dillon plays out scenes alone with Hudson. Ruining job interviews by admitting he “works to live”, slobbing out yet cooking amazing meals, Dupree is utterly charming. He’s like someone you know. And love/hate.

So, with this being the Wilson show, you really couldn’t care less for the relationship he’s trying to salvage. Dillon’s a workaholic bore and Hudson gels better with his best mate: you want them to be together – hence a random burst of Coldplay’s ‘Fix You’ to add emotion during the climax. If anyone makes three a crowd, it ain’t Dupree.

An Owen Wilson vehicle from start to finish. It may be pretty run-of-the-mill fare, but his Dupree makes the film an enjoyably guilty pleasure.

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