Director and co-writer Judd Apatow, the brilliant creator of TV series Freaks And Geeks, equally deserves all the success in the world. This first big project for both men is almost the wonderful movie such a pair should produce — yet it falls just short, strangely hamstrung by an overload of uncontrolled creativity. This has many a moment of gross-out comedy par excellence, providing all manner of yuk for your buck.
The generally winning, big-hearted Steve Carell vehicle The Year-Old Virgin is funny and realistically romantic, but almost never at the same time. It's essentially two movies operating at cross purposes. One's a raunchy, cartoonish Anchorman -like stoner comedy about a goofy-but-kind year-old virgin Carell and his slacker buddies' fumbling attempts to get him laid.
The Year-Old Virgin was released 10 years ago today. And, to cut to the chase: It holds up. It may even have gotten better with age.
Andy Stitzer has a pleasant life with a nice apartment and a job stamping invoices at an electronics store. But at age 40, there's one thing Andy hasn't done, and it's really bothering his sex-obsessed male co-workers: Andy is still a virgin. Determined to help Andy get laid, the guys make it their mission to de-virginize him. But it all seems hopeless until Andy meets small business owner Trish, a single mom.
Now that the influential success of Wedding Crashers has made it safe for R-rated comedies to corrupt us with gleeful raunch, along comes The Year-Old Virgin to claim its share of the pie. Cut it a big fat slice. A howlingly comic revel in bad taste, it still finds time to make you feel good about Andy Stitzer, the carnally innocent hero of this bawdy bedtime story.
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What does a year-old male virgin look like when he is not listening to confession or living in his parents' basement, adrift on a cloud of bong smoke? In the case of Andy Stitzer, the title character played by Steve Carell in the charmingly bent comedy "The Year-Old Virgin," he wears the dreamy look of the undefiled familiar from Renaissance paintings of saints and martyrs, and from 's suburban pastorals like "Leave It to Beaver. Sex has become so desacralized, it seems hard to believe that anyone, especially an apparently healthy man living in the age of Madonna and Maxim, Pamela and Paris, has managed to avoid getting some with someone, somewhere, at some point.
Killjoy pro-monogamy pap, however, is nonetheless a minor price to pay for the gratuitously gross sight of a just-awakened Carell peeing on his own chest and face thanks to some disobedient morning wood. And in performing them, Blanchett offers the rare cinematic spectacle of a mother in her alone time, compelled to let her imagination and anxieties loose outside the pressures of maternal duty. The film establishes its narrative conflicts quickly and bluntly, often through dialogue, simple juxtaposition, and, in one particularly dull case, a YouTube mini-documentary about Bernadette that plays in full in order to clarify her backstory.