Okay! So! Sex Tape! Cameron Diaz and Jason Segel meet in college where they have the most boring, awkward, vaginal penetration-only, vanilla sex of all time. Because they don't use birth control, she gets knocked up, which means she's stuck with this gawky, pasty-ass ball-and-chain and becomes a stay-at-home-ding-dong. Flash forward to their non-existent, boring sex life as a married couple—'cause, y'know, MARRIAGE = LESS SEX? IS THIS A FRESH PERSPECTIVE? HOW 'BOUT NOW?!

To spice things up, instead of oral sex, toys, watching porn, roleplaying, or just not having stupid dialogue during sex, they make a—you guessed it—sex tape, and it doesn't even get leaked onto the internet until 30 minutes into the damn movie. Naturally, due to some iPad-ex-machina, the tape is soon all over town, with the shamed couple running through all kinds of madcap follies as a result, accompanied, for some reason, by the underutilized Rob Corddry and Ellie Kemper.

I won't spoil the end for you (director Jake Kasdan does a great job of that himself, assisted by the clunky script by Kate Angelo, Jason Segel, and Nicholas Stoller), but I will say that at end of the movie, in the not-so-grand tradition of The Hangover, yes, they finally show the scandalous tape. These idiots were right to be ashamed! I've never been less turned on by two healthy, naked people; if you make it this far into the movie, these will be the most underwhelming five minutes of your life. Rock Hudson and his beard made more titillating movies in the '50s.

Sex Tape is a hackneyed, overlong, poorly constructed film, with a confused message that somehow turns out to be sex-negative. If you lose a bet and have to see it, you'll at least enjoy a few moments of fun from Jack Black, Artemis Pebdani, Kumail Nanjiani, and Rob Lowe, who, god bless him, is kind enough to just play a version of his character from Parks and Rec.