Scott Marks noon, Jan. 11
Lower what little expectation you have going in and you’ll still be disappointed. How does powerlifting two refrigerators and flipping tractor tires make one a better lifeguard? Not sure, but having that question cross my mind provided the only laugh in this otherwise deadening trip to the multiplex. Note to Hollywood: Say no to drugs as a plot motivator. Enough already! Dwayne Johnson has rocks in his head for having agreed to appear here, no matter how many zeros there were on his paycheck. Doe-eyed Alexandra Daddario and Bardot clone Kelly Rohrbach are the bubbly beach bunnies, while all that’s required of Zac Efron is remedial memorization technique and a willingness to work topless. Frankie and Annette vehicles were tsunamis of veracity and personal artistry compared to this two hour showcase of boobs, six packs, and wink-wink homoeroticism geared for low grade morons. One good thing: it provides celery and cigarettes money to models who have been out of work since Carl’s Jr. decided to ditch it’s busty babe approach to selling grease. Seth Gordon (Four Christmases, Identity Thief) directs. 2017.