So my plan last week was to fire up the way-back machine and do my thing with Peter Travers’ zero-star review of Bad Boys II, arguably the second greatest Henry Rollins movie of all time. I ran into a slight hitch when I realized that, for a movie he considers to be in the category of all time worst movies, Peter really didn’t have that much to say about it. Not that I have anything against recycling jokes, as my running commentary on the awkward sexual tension of his Watchmen review should indicate, but there wasn’t much for me to talk about except  the irony of the most bombastic film-reviewer of all time hating a movie for being too bombastic.

So this week I’m delving into his review of I Love You, Man, the Rudd and Segal buddy movie that came out last week. Nobody’s ever accused me of punctuality.

You know the drills. Words after the jump:

Here’s the thing about comedies: Even when the script is freighted with formula, the right actors can keep it afloat, even airborne.

Apparently even writers for major entertainment publications are allowed to mix metaphors now. I’d probably be less bitter if I had a similarly cushy job, but I don’t, so I’m not.

In a down market for giggles (Miss March? Please!), Paul Rudd and Jason Segel are howlingly funny.

Quick, somebody get Geithner on the line. Giggles need a bailout!

They have skills.

True story. Peter Travers once saw the two of them build a campfire out of all the excess money they made by doing the exact same movie every six months.

They can get laughs without the sitcom pimping.

Is there a pimp sitcom out there I don’t know about? If not, Fox needs to get on that right away.

By the way, Jason Segel stars in the sitcom “How I Met Your Mother.” Just saying.

It’s a rare gift, staying hilarious and recognizably human.

Yes, rare is the gift that allows these two humans to continue to be recognized as humans while being hilarious. Personally, I’m hilarious, but I tend to look more like a North American Grizzly when I do it.

Their presence and ace comic timing kick the movie up a notch.

You know what? I totally missed that fact that Peter Travers decided to open with a lightning round. In a five-line dual-knob slob-off, Peter travers has managed to say absolutely nothing of value, which I guess is a win for him.

Director John Hamburg (Along Came Polly), who teamed on the script with Seinfeld writer Larry Levin, hangs the plot on a flimsy premise: A dude with no dude friends needs a dude to be best man at his wedding.

Look, I use dude to open pretty much every third sentence I say. I’m tired of my lifestyle being mercilessly persecuted by these out of touch wind bags who don’t understand my cultural upbringing, man.

Never mind that the needy dude, tightly wound L.A. realtor Peter Klaven (Rudd), has a brother, Robbie (Andy Samberg), who could easily do the job.

This is what passes for analysis in a Peter Travers movie. Christ, he’s the kind of guy who watches Law & Order and feels smart for guessing that the wife did it, isn’t he?

That would leave no reason to get Peter out on man dates.

Two things: First, whoever it was that came up with the term “man date” and chuckled about the fact that it sounds like another word, despite the lack of any kind of related double entendre, should be deported to Slovakia. Second, does he seem a little too insistant that Peter go on these man dates, or am I really just reading way too much into this?

That’s right, Peter’s fiancée, Zooey (a sparky Rashida Jones) — whose girl network is so in the loop they know precisely the first time Peter went oral on Zooey (“Lock that tongue down, girl”) — encourages the poor schnook to go out and find a best buddy.

A Google Image search for Schnook, which apparently means a stupid or gullible person, similar to a “dolt.” It takes mere seconds to google a word to find out if it sucks, by the way.

After several disastrous tries, including a gay close encounter, the search ends with Sydney Fife (Segel). Sydney is Peter’s polar opposite, a likable slob who holes up in a Venice Beach man cave stuffed with porn and video games

Let’s see: gay close encounter…pole…slob…holes…man cave…stuffed…porn.

Sydney has a comfort level inside his own skin that Peter never dreamed possible.

Jesus Christ. Peter Travers is actually writing I Love You, Man slash fiction.

Without ever infringing on Brokeback territory, Sydney is man enough to make Zooey jealous.

Just a little late there, buddy. I think you’ve already “infringed” all over Brokeback’s “territory.”

And that’s it. That’s all. It’s the variations that Rudd and Segel spin on this theme that make the movie hugely enjoyable.

Right, because that line couldn’t be used whenever these guys do the exact same thing every six months.

There’s no one better than Rudd at putting an affable face on awkwardness.

Woody Allen is so pissed off right now.

it’s always Peter who drops the ball.

Yes, it is always Peter who drops the ball. It’s nice when he writes my side for me.

Cool is always just out of Peter’s reach

I’m just going to pop out and grab a coffee. Anyone else want one?

It’s a passion for Rush (the band puts in a surprise appearance) that bonds Peter and Sydney.

Surprise? Well, not any more. Way to drop the ball Peter.

Segel has a ball playing the other side of the inhibited musician he wrote for himself in the underrated Forgetting Sarah Marshall.

Well, Rotten Tomatoes, Metacritic and imbd all have Forgetting Sarah Marshall rated pretty highly. I guess that’s good for a movie that sucked, but remind me again what “underrated” means?

He also lets you in on the loneliness that’s eating at this free spirit.

Yet another sneak peek at Peter’s upcoming romance novel, Travers of the Night.

Jaime Pressly is terrific as Zooey’s BFF. Her battles with Jon Favreau, excellent as her blowhard husband, have genuine comic bite.

Honestly, I don’t know what “genuine comic bite” means, so I’m just going to let it be.

The movie goes soft in its final stages

Lest anyone think I’m out to paint Peter Travers as some kind of sexual deviant, bear in mind that he actually wrote that.

“Sweet, sweet hangin’,” says Peter of knowing Sydney. The same goes for the movie.

That’s it? Honestly, if Rolling Stone gave me any money at all, I’d be willing to invest the minute and a half it would take to come up with a better ending line than that.

Quick programming note: At some point in the next month or so, I’m hoping to spin this feature off into its own website at www.ihatepetertravers.com (it currently redirects to a listing of posts tagged “I Hate Peter Travers”).  I’m looking for writers who can do posts in this same vein (hopefully directed at a wider range of bad critics) as well as people who are interested in doing actual movie reviews. If there’s anyone out there with an interest in getting in on the groundfloor of this non-lucrative enterprise, drop me an email at jon@seitzwrites.com.