Mike Meyers' character-based comedy is not funny. At all. But don't just take my world for it: The Saturday-afternoon audience (of 10 people) laughed once. (If you must know, it was when Meyers screamed: "Get off my tits!") Directed by Marco Schnabel, this off-the-mark story about an Eastern self-help guru (Meyers, unctuous and puerile) and the hockey team he aids, is a dog. If it were a real dog, kindness would suggest putting it down before it caused more harm to itself and others. Caught in this spiral of awful: Justin Timberlake as a Celine Dion-loving goalie; TV funnymen Stephen Colbert and John Oliver; and Sir Ben Kingsley as the elder Guru Tugginmypudha (sound it out). These folks will likely survive; Meyers may not. Celebrating fifth-grade potty humor may be a forgivable mistake, but wrapping it up in vanity production about self-actualization that proselytizes for Deepak Chopra (also on board) is an unholy, unfunny, unwatchable mess. See only if you're a registered Razzie voter. (AH) [capsule review]
