Pineapple Express is a ‘stoner’ comedy from the seemingly inexhaustible, super-producer Judd Apatow and, in its defence, probably wasn’t made with a middle-aged housewife such as myself in mind. As it is, I’ve only ever done pot once and did not like it (my knees went). Apatow was, of course, also behind the huge hits Superbad and Knocked Up, neither of which I have seen — too busy lining drawers with lavender paper; that sort of thing — although I did recently rent Knocked Up on DVD for my teenage son when my ten-year-old niece happened to be staying. Alas, I’m afraid I had no idea how unsuitable it was until, midway through the film, my niece sought me out to ask: ‘Deb, what’s an orgasm?’ Naturally, I sat her down and very calmly said: ‘I know! Let’s play cards!’ I take my materteral duties very seriously, so after cards it was Monopoly, and then bed. Hell, I’m only the aunt in all this; what are the parents for?
Anyway, Pineapple Express, which is basically about two pot-head losers on the run from the mob. And laugh, my dears? I’m sure that if I’d started I’d never have stopped, but as I never started it was hardly an issue. This is a baggy, pointless, tiresome film, which is also messy, puerile, cack-handedly gruesome and plain unfunny. Still, not a complete waste of time as I did manage, at least, to plan a week’s worth of family suppers during the entirely predictable, tediously protracted shoot-out at the end. This, I’m afraid, is what happens to middle-aged housewives when they get bored at the movies. I also did an entire Waitrose shop in my head, and thought some more about the replacement vacuum cleaner we so need (Miele, I’m now thinking, rather than Dyson).