DELIVERY MAN Hey, you got a cup I can use?
  • DELIVERY MAN "Hey, you got a cup I can use?"

Sometimes a movie is just a movie. As a film critic, it’s easy to forget this—to read between the frames of even the most asinine and formulaic celluloid for something, anything remotely interesting enough to hang 300 words off of. But sometimes a movie is just so painfully, radiantly ill-advised that it really is something extraordinary—the kind of movie that begs more questions than can possibly be contained in the dwindling pages of a single alternative weekly.

While I did my best to lay out Delivery Man’s more glaring tonal incongruities in my recent print review, the yoke of serious film criticism—as is often the case with particularly bad cinema—stood in the way of positing a good number of the truly important questions contained within. I hope that in this installment of Movie Masochist, we might shed some much-deserved light on some of the film’s more inscrutable corridors.

Question 1: How old does Vince Vaughn have to get before his lovable fuck-up persona ceases to be believably charismatic, and just starts to feel like the an adult man struggling with some kind of clinical pathology? Am I wrong in thinking that the guy should have aged out of this by now?

Question 2: If a full one half of their genetic coding supposedly stems from Vince Vaughn masturbating into a cup, what are the odds that the resulting cast of offspring would be the most uniformly diverse and attractive assortment of extras this side of a Benetton ad? Pretty good odds? Astoundingly good odds?

Question 3: This is the math section. Delivery Man claims that over the course of 32 months, Vince Vaughn’s character masturbated into a cup (please let’s just sit with that image for a moment more: Vince Vaughn, alone in a too-small, single occupancy bathroom, hurriedly and angrily pleasuring himself before a selection of Sunday circular bra ads, and finally discharging inside of a pathetically diminutive plastic cup) at the same sperm bank an astonishing 693 times. I have no doubt in my mind that Vince Vaughn is biologically capable of this feat, but if my math is correct, that means that said bank would have had to welcome deposits from Mr. Vaughn roughly once every 1.4 days. I’m not totally sure that there’s a question in there.

Question 4: According to the film’s IMDB trivia page—officially one item long—affably husky actor Chris Pratt immersed himself in his role by gaining 60 pounds. I know they say that people on their deathbeds always regret the things that they didn’t do more than what they did, but do you think that if his kidneys gave out, Chris Pratt would be all like “NO REGRETS Hashtag YOLO” about that decision?

Though these simple queries merely scratch the surface of Delivery Man's cinematic cryptogram, I hope that they begin to plant the seed for the inevitable intellectual discourse that this film so unmistakably merits. Also: Vince Vaughn masturbating into a cup.