Watching this movie one gets the impression that its characters mirror the way that Netflix views its subscriber base: a sad, slovenly, segment of Americans who aren't enjoying much about their lives, spouses, kids, jobs, friends or anything else. It's an unhappy movie for unhappy people, and it's very unlikely that jokes about female facial hair, bodily fluids, and pregnancy gross-out humor is going to cheer them up.
It's hard to even imagine why a writer would sit down to write something like this, or why an actor would sign on - other than to receive a paycheck. And that's the saddest part of all. The people who made this movie and the executives who green-lit it will all return to their homes in the Hollywood Hills, while the average Netflix subscriber will slink off to bed feeling a little more depressed and jaded than they did before. It's not what anyone needs in today's world. Netflix doesn't care about entertainment, they've admitted that. They make second-screen content to play in the background while you scroll your phone. And that's exactly what this is.
