Katherine Heigl and Leslie Mann in Knocked Up (dir. Judd Apatow, 2007).
Guest reviewer Jordan Davis renders my own commentary superfluous:
My haircutter told me for about a year and a half that I needed to see The Forty-Year-Old Virgin but when I did finally she was like, oh, that movie. I saw Knocked Up on opening night--not so much to have something to say to relieve my terminal awkwardness but to see what the guy with the best lines in 40YOV--Steve Carell sees a bookstore employee's thong poking out of her pants, says "There's something wrong with her underwear," and Rogen responds, "Yeah, they're not in my mouth"--could do as a lead.
What I should have done was stay home and watch DVDs of Undeclared. Rogen is okay, the ensemble of homely stoners is okay, the script has its moments, and it turns out I can watch just about anything with Paul Rudd in it, but. Katherine Heigl is unpleasant as the E! producer-turned-talent who makes the heartwarmingly implausible decision not to terminate her pregnancy with a destitute man-boobed web designer. The plot points read like Syd Field workbook examples. Worst: no memorable zingers. Saving graces: club bouncer Craig Robinson gets a solid monologue on why he won't be letting Heigl and her older sister behind the ropes, and Kristen Wiig is very good as an envious TV executive.
I realize I'm not the audience, Harold Ramis-cameo to the contrary. If you're heading into freshman comp in the fall, you're going to need material for an essay on reproductive rights. Your B plus paper is already here. The movie, though, is a B minus.