The script for this sex comedy could almost turn Miss March into a film suitable for PG licence – because every time one of the characters is about to get down to business, it takes a left turn into lavatory humour.
Aimed at the drunken college crowd, most of the gags have the nervous, giggly idiocy of two middle-school kids flipping through dad's "Playboy."

Zach Cregger and Trevor Moore co-direct and co-star in the film, as well as having a hand in the screenplay. Cregger plays Eugene, a straight-laced chap who's just about to lose his virginity to high school sweetheart Cindy (Raquel Alessi).

Eugene is a high school senior perfectly content to remain a virgin until marriage, but as the prom rolls around Cindi starts having second thoughts about their shared vow of abstinence and convinces Eugene to meet her upstairs at an after party. After some pre-coitus imbibing sends Eugene spiraling down a wooden staircase he wakes up four years later from a coma to discover Tucker is still Tucker but Cindi’s run off to Hollywood and become a Playmate.

The characters hastily decide to launch a cross country journey to find Cindi at one of the Playboy Mansion’s patented parties. This leads to a lot of long, slow scenes in which the filmmakers give themselves little to do beyond playing up the characters’ single dimensions. Eugene is impossibly sincere and prude; Cregger plays him with an immobile look of earnest shock. Tucker, on the other hands, comes across as a low-grade version of Jim Carrey at his most manic.

Craig Robinson plays a rap star pal of the two leads; again, whatever laughs he gets come from shock value rather than anything genuinely funny. There are women characters but they're mostly just blow-up dolls, projections of the lusts and fears of the filmmakers.

You take what you get: a tribe of enraged firefighters chasing Tucker throughout the movie has some cheap laughs, and the sight of Hugh Hefner himself, giving the heroes advice toward the end of the film, is unexpectedly moving. I guess he's this movie's Yoda, but he merely looks like a wizened and sad old man, cultural millenniums away from his hubba-hubba '60s heyday. He seems deeply uncomfortable in his cameo and it would appear that Miss March wasn't actually shot at the real Playboy Mansion, because it looks pretty lame in the movie, sort of like a pensioner’s house with erotic sculptures. If Playboy still had any of its mystique left in today's world, Miss March has wiped it clean away.

If the script possessed at least one decent idea, it would be tempting to think that it’s intentionally parodying the vapidity of the Playboy “philosophy.” Certainly, its portrait of the plastic people populating a Playboy Mansion party is rather damning. (Apparently, it’s easy to confuse the champagne with dog urine at these events.)

The boys’ Tweedledum and Tweedledee act wears thin after about a minute, which is unfortunate, because there are no memorable supporting characters to pick up the slack . But to be fair to the film’s entertainment value they do manage to make a pooh-gag funny, which is an achievement in itself.