Before watching Almost Family (now on Netflix), it’s important to understand the historical rivalry between Brazil and Argentina, rooted in 20th-century political standoffs, which fizzled with regime changes and became a mostly friendly soccer rivalry. And so a metaphor plays out in this dumbass comedy in which a Brazilian woman gets engaged to an Argentinian man, and their dopey fathers butt heads during a leisurely trip to beautifully snowy Bariloche. The movie is ostensibly a showcase for Brazilian funnyguy Leandro Hassum, who’s become a Netflix staple (see also: Fenced In, A Vampire in the Family) and is notable for anchoring big, broad yukfests like this. And this one is especially big and broad – and depressingly predictable. 

The Gist: Otavio (Hassum) is a character consisting of roughly three details: He owns a cafe-bar in Rio de Janeiro. He’s the father to Mariana (Julia Svacinna), a hopeful career violinist. And his wife passed away, and even though he remarried to Joana (Karina Ramil), there will always be a puddle o’ sadness for the screenplay to dip into when it needs to manipulate our emotions. We open on a busy day at the bar. Otavio needs needs needs Mariana to help out, but she’s upstairs in the apartment practicing for her audition for a conservatory in Paris. Meanwhile, his stepson Felipinho (Joao Barreto) is over yonder screwing off, dancing like a dork for what Otavio refers to as “the TokTok or TukTuk or whatever,” so that gives you an idea of the movie’s level of comedic sophistication. 

Otavio is the type of self-involved jerk who always envisioned his daughter taking over the family business, but never seemed to give a crap what she wanted. So when she lands the music scholarship and is all packed up to leave, he sends her off by bitterly telling her, “If it doesn’t work out, don’t call me.” Five minutes into the movie, and we already want to pitch him into the crocodile pit. But Otavio is “funny,” so we can’t hate him, right? Right? RIGHT? (Cough) (Crickets)

Subtitle: THREE YEARS LATER. Mariana comes home and for some reason is happy to see her dad. She has big news: She met a guy at the conservatory, Miguel (Simon Hempe). They’re getting married. They’re going to live in Europe and be career musicians. And – get out the fainting couch and smelling salts – he’s Argentinian. Dogs and cats! Living together! Mariana and Miguel have arranged for the families to meet in Bariloche, a postcard-worthy winter ski-resort town in Patagonia, where Miguel’s family owns a hotel. Having absorbed many of Joana’s hey-don’t-be-an-asshole lectures, Otavia says over and over again that he supports Mariana no matter what, and we know it’s total manure. He doth protest too much or he’s trying to will it to be the truth, and it’s as transparent as Trump’s cellophane lies.

And so Mariana, Otavia, Joana and Felipinho fly to Argentina and meet Miguel and his parents, Hector (Gabriel Goity) and Norma (Mariela Pizzo). From the get-go, Otavia acts like an insufferable child, so we spend a considerable amount of time waiting around for him to stop being a pube and actually be nice to his soon-to-be in-laws. Thing is, Hector is also a pube, proving the divide between Argentinians and Brazilians to be not so wide after all. Their emotionally and psychologically stunted sense of competitiveness manifests in hijinks-riddled skiing and sledding excursions, and a particularly heated foosball tournament. Meanwhile, we meet Miguel’s modelesque sommelier ex-girlfriend, and there’s tension between him and Mariana, because if the movie didn’t shoehorn in the ol’ break-up-and-make-up thing, it just wouldn’t know what to do. But I know what you should do: Turn this crap off.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: I forget, was Meet the Fockers a destination-wedding movie? All this shit just blurs together after a while.

Performance Worth Watching: Svacinna uses her Emma Watsonesque earnestness in the thankless role of the earnest, put-upon character who holds the movie together. 

Memorable Dialogue: Otavio readies for another competitive moment with his rival: “I’m gonna show the coconut head who’s the potato.”

Sex and Skin: None.

Our Take: As for that nationalistic metaphor: What was once a nuclear arms race has devolved into two old farts being dicks. Perhaps Almost Family can be read as political satire, equating two military juntas that wanted to potentially nuke each other with petty, meddlesome, narcissistic idiots. I’m not going to pull that thread any more, because I’m not a historian, and also because this lazy comedy isn’t worthy of 81 minutes of your life, not to mention further time spent thinking about it and what it might potentially be trying to say, which is most likely not much.

No, movies like Almost Family intend to be artificial, escapist joke machines, but if the comedy isn’t on-point, we’re more likely to be bored, annoyed, or some delectable melange of both. As we’ve seen in other dumb comedies, Hassum indulges tryhard mugging to apparently compensate for a DOA screenplay full of simplistic, formulaic conflicts and repetitive comedy. The plot consists of problems that are easily solved, and in fact wouldn’t exist if these people weren’t Movie Characters. There’s a moment where the dozenth (or so) iteration of a joke is repeated once again, and Hassum quips, “Again with this?” Bullseye: It’s not intended to be meta-commentary, but intention and reality are often two different things.

Our Call: Almost Scamily. SKIP IT.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.