Crimes:

  • Featuring a scene in which a wasted Woody Allen look-alike vomits on Jenny McCarthy's breasts, which somehow plays even worse than it sounds
  • Also featuring a scene in which a screaming McCarthy crawls around on a sidewalk, offering her thonged ass to a disgusted random passerby
  • Letting Carmen Electra attempt to resurrect minstrelsy as a Ebonics-spouting hoochie

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Defenders: Director John Asher and ex-wife/ star/writer Jenny McCarthy

Tone of commentary: Spiteful, awkward, self-deprecating, mortified. McCarthy professes to be proud of her dialogue, but the bitterness and awkward silence on the commentary tell a different story. A distinct tension animates the proceedings, as when Asher inexplicably tries to take credit for coming up with a pap-smear gag, and McCarthy contradicts him. Asher and McCarthy don't particularly seem to like Dirty Love or each other.

What went wrong: Beneath the thin veneer of halfhearted praise for Love lies a deep, seething maelstrom of bitterness. McCarthy and Asher extensively discuss the film's shortcomings, from ugly locations to grindhouse production values to costuming and makeup woes to the bit players that producers foisted upon the production to the actual producers, two of whom were fired early on.

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Comments on the cast: McCarthy ruthlessly picks apart her performance and her appearance, from her outsized "man hands" to wrinkles. Asher crows that Electra "nailed" her deluded Wafrican-American, while an even more deluded McCarthy insists that "people are going to be blown away" by Electra.

Inevitable dash of pretension: Asher compares geeky leading man Eddie Kaye Thomas to Humphrey Bogart.

Commentary in a nutshell: A suggestive ice-cream-eating scene leads to an awkward exchange about oral sex and the taste of Asher's semen. "After year one, I stopped swallowing," McCarthy confesses. Is it any wonder these crazy kids got divorced?

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