Swearnet: The Movie follows three chowderheads trying to figure out where they fit in after their long time claim to fame. The three douchebags: Robb Wells, John Paul Tremblay, and Mike Smith. Those fucking tools that we’ve seen bumble around on television and star in this year’s jag-off road comedy Trailer Park Boys: Don’t Legalize It.
They can’t be associated with anything that has to do with that fucking landmark in Canadian television, but they want their careers to follow in a similar vein. Y’know, swearing, smoking, and shit, while making the crowd fall down on their ass in hysterics.
The problem is an annoying occurrence of tomfuckery. Networks have strict censorship rules, and what TV producers want is entirely fucking bogus to how the boys want to do things.
This meta project has the boys playing exaggerated versions of themselves, but that feeling of being attached to unattainable expectations while trying to negotiate a future, rings as bright as piss. If that other successful comedy This Is The End was making a cocksucking statement about Hollywood personalities clashing during the highest of stakes and the worst of times, Swearnet is speaking true about having to re-fucking-establish yourself in an industry that always has you double thinking and vying for originality while being stuck under a judgemental public eye.
Wells, Tremblay, and Smith cut the smug, funny business that could’ve existed in their screenplay. And, they’re not pulling our pud for sympathy through the magic of goddamn laughter. It’s this foundation that makes Mike’s frustration inspire a plan to create their own network on the Internet. It’s something any fucking nimrod with a stupid fucking webcam can fart out of their ass, but the boys think they have enough clout and popularity to provoke people to pay for online subscriptions that are as cheap as your mother after 2am.
Before you know it, the boys are gathering content, from the headlines to the flimsy fucking weather. The sleazy weatherman is Pat Roach (better known as Randy on Trailer Park Boys), who looks like a pretty boy with his nice little haircut, but becomes a violating, invasive dick when he drinks too much and rubs silk on his berries.
Roach is also given another responsibility to jaunt around as “Swearman”, the network’s trolling mascot who can’t keep his mouth shut and his cock off the air. In an alternate universe, I picture “Swearman” hanging out with Howard Stern’s “Fartman”. What a beautiful fucking couple to watch ride stallions off into a shit-ass sunset.
Swearman’s antics are what accumulates a fuck-load of hits and subscriptions for Swearnet, which is good considering two bozo fucknut loan sharks – who Mike borrowed funds from to build the goddamn business – are keeping close tabs on the groundbreaking site.
When you cut past the developmental bullshit the movie needs to support the motives behind this lowly website, all the lowbrow humour surprisingly finds the right groove. Y’know, after you become immune to the excessive swearing and come to terms with Jean Paul’s girlfriend’s caked on, campy accent.
In order for a comedy like Swearnet to work, everyone attached needs to go-for-broke with every crass step. They all happily jump in – pressing their tits to the grindstone, refusing to half-ass anything, and going balls-deep with every punchline. Everyone on and off screen is fucking fearless, and maybe a little insane.
Warren P. Sonoda – the motherfucker who directed the equally politically incorrect and fucking hilarious Christmas bash Cooper’s Camera as well as the underrated comedy Servitude about shit-eating waiters – is just the guy to helm a movie this unhinged.
Sonoda suits up and takes us on a wild fucking ride full of unapologetic comedy that stays consistent to the overall bawdy tone. Thankfully, he avoids making Swearnet a misogynistic, hateful, throw down the bowels of anarchy. He keeps the spirits high in a harmless realm, but manages to surprise all of us with good ole’ filthy jokes that take no prisoners. That’s pretty fucking impressive for a movie that has lots of blondes spilling out cleavage and more uses of the word “cunt” than the Manchester United Football Club on a week-long bender.
Wells and Tremblay deserve a pat on the fucking back for being able to blend reality into fiction seamlessly. Their delivery – as it was on Trailer Park Boys – is fucking spot-on. Smith, on the other hand, steals every scene he’s in as he miraculously pulls off the “Jonah Hill-troublemaker” role. But, his work in Swearnet’s more heartfelt scenes remind us of how good of a fucking actor he is. First Lloyd the Conqueror, now this. That motherfucker does not get the proper respect.
And, I guarantee you will laugh at whatever Pat Roach does on screen. No matter how rude he becomes and no matter how belligerent he gets, he always holds his own next to the outstanding work by the three leads. The drunker he gets, the more his voice becomes more like a gremlin’s. And, it is is fucking glorious.
You’ll laugh, you’ll weeze from fucking laughing, and you’ll hurt from bending over from weezing because you were laughing so fucking hard. This is UHF if Weird Al was your drunk uncle.
Canadians have finally regained their edginess in the form of something that’s not a scandalous mayor. That’s a fucking relief and a reason to celebrate.
Oh, sorry. I should watch my language. I meant “rejoice”.
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