Game Over, Man! is a 2018 action comedy about three friends who are on the verge of getting their video game financed when their benefactor is taken hostage by terrorists.
You really have to ask yourself what you’re expecting when it comes to making a choice to watch movies like Game Over, Man!, the latest from Kyle Newacheck now on Netflix. I don’t mean that quite as it sounds, but rather, a sort a way to set the groundwork that no, this is not a serious effort, and in fact is about as comfortable with its absurd, stoner comedy male fantasy approach as any in the genre, delivering all the familiar landmarks we’ve seen before, full of the uncomfortable raunch and romp that will satisfy those in need of such before dissipating into the ether for good.
Three best friends and party dudes Alexxx (Adam Devine), Darren (Anders Holm), and Joel (Blake Anderson) are housekeepers at a luxury hotel, though hardly with any sense of commitment, mostly cleaning up after rich people who have had a lot sex. They have ideas of course, one being an interactive gaming suit called Skintendo, which might not be exactly what you think it is. When the ultra-rich social mogul Bey Awadi (Utkarsh Ambudkar) checks in and hosts a party on the roof, they think they have just the man in which to pitch their idea, after offered jobs as waiters, though there is a snag. A gang of highly-trained terrorist-types led by Conrad Drothers (Neal McDonough) and Erma (Rhona Mitra) take the party hostage demanding millions, however the boys end up on the other side and work a plan to free them all and go after their dreams.
Most will recognize Devine, Holm, and Anderson from their Comedy Central sitcom hit Workaholics, for which Game Over, Man! shares a lot of inspiration, though unshackled by network regulations, gleefully leaps over all the lines they can. The plot is (duh) ridiculous, riffing on Die Hard of all things, though only superficially as the boys end up in a tag team fight for their lives with all sorts of risque humor and violence, including extended moments of Devine au-naturel (a polite term for full frontal nudity in all its flapping glory), drug use, gay terrorists who take opportunities to satisfy each other in the open rooms of the hotel, and gruesome head exploding mayhem. That is only the tip of where this goes.
None of that is hardly offensive in this day in age, and I am all on board for any filmmaker looking to crush the norm and do something that not just pushes envelopes but bolts well past it. However, even as funny as a few isolated moments are, the film is hopelessly transparent and isn’t about really pushing anything except excuses to be vulgar and graphic without innovating anything. It’s not trying to do so of course, wanting only to be recklessly and controversially splashy, leaving this easy to see where it’s going, being mostly a vehicle for Devine, Holm, and Anderson to be whacky, and at least, for fans, will have plenty of payoffs the more it goes on.
There are a host of cameos to keep your eyes open for, including Fred Armisen, Shaggy, Joel McHale, Daniel Stern, and Donald Faison though none really give this the kind of edge it feels primed to deliver. The jokes are here but mishandled and left to rot instead of hitting fast and moving on. Certainly, most tuning in aren’t looking for a challenge and will probably find just what they are looking for, even if it goes too far too often to make this anything more than one more mindless comedy on the heap.