Servitude Warren P. Sonoda

Servitude Warren P. Sonoda
Within the vacuum of social expectation and undiscerning acceptance, the notion of comedy comes from broad impropriety without comment, such as farts, poop, pubic hair and fornication with culturally undesirable prospects like Margot Kidder. It's comedy for those that never had to grow up or consider any aspect of the world other than the one handed down to them, which validates baser instincts.

This isn't to dismiss the validity of unfocused boy comedy, as a plethora of folks took great pleasure in the insular, heteronormative shenanigans that occurred in The Hangover, but it is the sort of thing better appreciated by those within the box that happen to be drunk. Unfortunately in the case of Servitude, even the standard desultory male B.S. doesn't work, given the lethargic execution and overly strained manner in which every sequence originates.

This clumsy Canadian comedy is like a cruder variation on Waiting, detailing the annoyances and grossness of the food service industry. It follows a group of servers through a night on the job dealing with obnoxious kids, chatty old people, smug, suit-wearing douche bags and a new German boss (Enrico Colantoni), who has come to rebrand their Montana's-style franchise as an ersatz-Nazi headquarters for some inexplicable reason.

And while all this could have fared reasonably well on its own, doling out identifiable rants about how inconsiderate it is to bring loud children to restaurants or how sad it is to stiff your server, the constructed narrative surrounding these mediocre, often misguided gags is off-putting at best.

Essentially this shift is supposed to be the last one for exceptionally effeminate trust fund baby Josh Stein (Joe Dinicol), as preached by his clichéd bitch archetype girlfriend Jenny (Kristen Hager). Only he's realizing that the corporate life sucks in comparison to taking shit from strangers in a server capacity ― something he endlessly whines about ― making this a morality play about how adult responsibility and relationship maturity impose on the awesomeness of a bohemian lifestyle.

There is absolutely no consciousness of the implicit irony of such an assertion, nor is there any awareness that the term "gunt" has been amidst the populist lexicon for quite some time. This is a terribly unfunny movie for terribly immature boys, but there's a joke about the density of a female Asian "bush" and Dave Foley eats someone's puke. (Alliance)