Stream It Or Skip It: ‘The Honeymoon’ on Hulu, a Generic Comedy That Squanders Maria Bakalova’s Talent

The Honeymoon (now on Hulu) is notable not for its generic title, or for being written and directed by the guy who wrote two Death at a Funerals, three years apart (namely, rom-com vet Dean Craig). No, it’s notable for giving Maria Bakalova – Oscar nominee for Borat Subsequent Moviefilm and generator of significant comedy in the damn terrific Bodies Bodies Bodies – a second-fiddle role behind a couple of dudes, and therefore not nearly enough to do. Beyond that, the film is a thing that fulfills one’s expectations for a lightweight comedy, and nothing more, which isn’t exactly a crime, especially if it makes us laugh, which it comes precariously close to doing on occasion. Whether that’s enough to warrant a recommendation… well, let’s get into that now, shall we?  

THE HONEYMOON: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: Bav (dude no. 1, Asim Chaudhry) is nervous, and it’s not even his wedding. But he is the best man, standing next to his forever bud Adam (dude no. 2, Pico Alexander), which, with the ring and the speech and the hey-bro-are-you-sure-you-wanna-get-married-and-let-her-take-you-away-from-me guilt, is enough to stir up the ol’ anxiety. Adam is cool as a cucumber taped to the other side of the pillow, until Bav drops the ring into the lake mid-ceremony and gives an awkward and embarrassing best-man speech. This, you may notice, is stuff that doesn’t usually occur in Wedding Movies until the third act, but here we are in the first act, because the movie isn’t about the wedding, but what comes after the wedding. It’s right there in the title. And suffice to say, the hey-bro-are-you-sure-you-wanna-get-married-and-let-her-take-you-away-from-me guilt is a key plot element, because Bav ends up going to Venice along with Adam and Sarah (Bakalova), cluelessly cramping breakfast and bedtime and all points between. Sigh, I say. Sigh.

Here’s the thing. Bav and Adam have been “the Inseparables” since they were tots, although there was a period of time where Adam moved to America with his parents, leaving Bav alone with his whatevers. You know, his insecurities and peccadilloes and the like. Bav implies that he might just off himself while Adam and Sarah are off doing newlywed stuff – taking in lovely sights, putting tab A into slot B, etc. – and Adam crumbles and invites him along. Guilt. It’s all guilt. And next thing you know, the third wheel is grossing everyone out by eating breakfast all sloppy and slurpy and gross like DeSantis at a pudding bar. And barging into their suite during lingerie time because he already destroyed his own toilet. And accidentally bearing witness to their kinky donkey-jester roleplay. He’s so obnoxious, he makes boors look like the Queen. 

When Adam and Sarah finally get out the crowbar and pry Bav away for an afternoon, he immediately befriends Giorgio (Lucas Bravo, Emily in Paris), a gangster with money from here to Proxima Centauri and back. Here I’ll note that Sarah loves fine art and is an artist, two things that comprise the bare threads of her character, because these facts play into this next part here. Our protag trio ends up at Giorgio’s estate, where Sarah admires all his priceless art, which sits there precariously, just waiting for Bav to accidentally smash it. As the wise man once said: Uh oh, Spaghetti-Os. They’re in deep excrement now. And so Giorgio forces Adam and Bav to deliver a giant load of cocaine to Slovenia, keeping Sarah behind as collateral, and with the hope that she’s a fickle woman character from a 1950s farce who’s just waiting to be wooed away from her husband by a handsome rich guy. Hilarity ensues – in theory, at least.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: This is a classic mismatched-buddy comedy that swipes/references the fat-guy-in-a-little-coat bit from Tommy Boy and the those-aren’t-pillows bit from Planes Trains and Automobiles. And the gangster-tries-to-seduce-his-captive stuff emits enough of an eau de 365 Days that we nearly got on our knees to pray that the Bakalova character not be the idiot who falls for the dashing criminal.

Performance Worth Watching: The whateverness of the characters played by the two dudes gets far too much screen time, and we lean in hoping Young gives Bakalova at least one lonely single opportunity to do something inspired. But it doesn’t happen. 

Memorable Dialogue: Bakalova: “I didn’t even know a human could create a smell like that.” – Sarah reacts to one of the many odors Bav emits (see what I mean about the Bakalova conundrum?)

Sex and Skin: No skin, but Bakalova wears some lacy things when she saddles up to give Alexander the ol’ EO.

Our Take: The Honeymoon is a collection of thin characters and wacky-com crud recycled from dozens of movies before it. Young is a veteran of this stuff (his previous film was 2020’s similarly generic, slightly more charming Love Wedding Repeat) who has yet to transcend genre limitations with his oeuvre of writing and directing projects – which is by no means a crime against the art of film, but the dearth of inspired laughs here is conspicuous. And not to beat the point to death, but Bakalova? Why would anyone hire someone of her comedy acumen to play what’s essentially a straight person role?

The movie just floats on by, setting up and executing predictable situations that seem impossible to escape, but you just know Bav and Adam somehow will wriggle out of them anyway. Young writes some diarrhea and pants-shitting and pissing-yourself jokes, concocts a break-up-and-make-up conflict for the central bromance, wheelbarrows in several loads of simple sentimental syrup and lands at a very rather quite dumb climactic confrontation that has no interest whatsoever in logic or reason. And here I sit, trying to recall moments that made my lips part so laughter could escape, and realizing there really weren’t any. There were a couple of really nice, postcard-y drone shots of Venice, though, so it could’ve been worse.

Our Call: The Honeymoon isn’t unwatchable, but neither is it particularly good. Faint praise, I know. SKIP IT. 

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.