‘Forgetting Sarah Marshall’ takes rom-com Mad Libs and fills in the blanks with greatness

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. I am going totally geronimo-banana-bonkers over here. Someone actually made a really and truly enjoyable romantic comedy! And that “someone” isn’t just any old Uncle Jerry-Joe McMiscellanewhoevers! It happens to be one sweet little plum pudding pie named Jason Segel, aka Nick Andopolis from Freaks and Geeks—which, for the purposes of this incredibly important sentence, happens to be the No. 1 best show ever made (just—seriously, can we not argue for one fucking night?).

Segel wrote and stars in Forgetting Sarah Marshall (which was produced by Judd Apatow), the movie that dunked my week in delight and then stuffed it down the funtime esophageal canal of entertainment. Formulaic to perfection, it’s the story of a hapless, harmless musician named Peter (Segel) whose TV star girlfriend, Sarah Marshall (Veronica Mars or whatever), dumps him for the world’s Britishest rock ’n’ roll longhair. Peter goes away on a vacation to nurse his broken heart but—surprise!(?)—Sarah Marshall and her new man are makin’ nonstop lurve at the same resort! Daaaang! Here’s what makes it work: Segel’s script takes this typical rom-com Mad Libs and fills in the blanks with sweet, human, relatable characters (not a Rob Schneider in sight!) and legitimately funny jokes. Sarah Marshall’s hit show is a CSI clone called Crime Scene: Scene of the Crime, with Billy Baldwin doing his best Horatio Caine: “I think it’s going to be hard for her to reenter the pageant . . . without a face.” Sarah Marshall’s douchebaggy beau gets political, maaaaan, with a sign that reads “SODOMIZE INTOLERANCE.” And Segal—kinda doughy, completely endearing—is the perfect down-and-out romantic comedy lead.

Also, there’s this: ’Sup, America. Jason Segel knows what you’re thinking. You’re thinking: “Hmm, I wonder what is going on with Jason Segel’s penis? I certainly would like to have a look.” Right? Well, look you shall. Jason Segel’s down-below dirty front-parts appear in this movie at least as many times as Paul Rudd does. Or, to be specific, like, five.

FORGETTING SARAH MARSHALL DIR. NICHOLAS STOLLER | RATED R | OPENS FRI AT THEATERS EVERYWHERE

Tags: comedy, Film, forgetting sarah marshall, judd apatow