There are bad movies, and then there are worse movies, and then there are duds like “Is that a gun in your pocket?” Loosely based on Aristophanes’ “Lysistrada” – the 2,000 year old Greek play that has inspired everything before, from a Wild West musical (1955 “The Second Greatest Sex”) to a short Broadway extravaganza. unwarranted duration (“Lysistrada Jones,” aka “Give It Up!”) to a Spike Lee Joint (“Chi-Raq”) – the smutty, smarmy farrago of writer-director Matt Cooper plays like the kind of wink, B-movie nudge amused Deep South drive-in regulars in the 1970s.
The level of humor is set early on when the public is informed that everything will take place in a small town in Texas with a population of 6,969. (No, really.) Cooper displays a colossal lack of taste by starting his conspiracy by having a student pull a handgun out of his father’s closet to impress a classmate, then inadvertently injuring a guard. of the crosswalk. It’s hard to forget how many times such a tragedy has unfolded in real life, and almost impossible not to feel uncomfortable as this mishap is played out for a laugh.
In fact, Jenna Keeley (Andrea Anders) doesn’t think the near-fatal shooter is funny at all. Indeed, she is so upset that she tries to convince her husband Glenn (Matt Passmore), a man who loves to hunt and loves to own guns, to give up his guns for the sake of his family and society in general. Unsurprisingly, Glenn refuses to let anyone, even his wife, limit his right to bear arms. One thing leads to another, through a series of complications that are meant to be funny, but aren’t, and Jenna ultimately succeeds in uniting other women and girlfriends in town in her campaign to deny men sexual favors. who are not ready to disarm.
When it comes to cheap laughs with horny dudes, alluring wives and girlfriends, sex-obsessed stereotypical Hispanics, and gun culture extremists (at one point, an NRA offers to supply prostitutes to sexually frustrated city dwellers), “Is that a gun in your pocket?” relies on veterans who support gamers to make a fool of themselves. Cloris Leachman shamelessly flatters like a horny golden-ager whose crude blowjob jokes, vibrators and other naughty bits are meant to get a laugh, while John Heard, portrayed as the city’s sheriff, suggests that hitting a shark with a bar stool in “Sharknado” really wasn’t the low point of his career.
To say anything else about this debacle, or the people for whom it provided easy wages, would be needlessly mean.