Given that first-time screenwriter Kyle Killen could have made the ‘prescription puppet’ that Mel Gibson communicates through for most of the movie any animal whatsoever, I naturally assumed that he’d chosen a beaver to give himself some reliable genitalia-based humour to fall back on when times got tough. But inexplicably, not once in the entire movie does anyone score into this massive, perpetually-open goal.
It’s like if Ed Balls and Brian Cox drove off a dyke into a muff warehouse and The Sun went with the headline ‘MP and Physicist Cross Levee Into Handwarmer Depository’.
