Gail Daughtry And The Celebrity Sex Pass

Don’t do it. Don’t be that person. Don’t be that person who turns their nose up at the prospect of seeing Gail Daughtry And The Celebrity Sex Pass, doubtless put off by either that unwieldy title (who the hell is Gail Daughtry? What the actual eff is a celebrity sex pass?) or its knock-down-ginger release strategy, finally appearing on UK cinema screens two months after its opening in America, but with zero promotion or publicity, more a rumour than a release.

Because if you are that person, you’ll be missing out. Missing out on some serious bragging rights when, ten years from now, Gail Daughtry And The Celebrity Sex Pass begins appearing on Letterboxd lists like The Greatest Comedies Of The 21st Century or hectoring think-pieces entitled something like The Best Comedies You’ve Never Seen (And Why You Should Feel Ashamed That You Haven’t Seen Them). Because if you are not that person, you’ll be able to don a smug grin and say, “I was there. I was there right at the beginning for Gail Daughtry And The Celebrity Sex Pass. And yes, that title still sucks.”

Because Gail Daughtry And The Celebrity Sex Pass is arguably the funniest film of the year (so far; there’s still a chance it could be eclipsed by Paul Greengrass’ The Uprising), with writer-director David Wain and writer-star Ken Marino deliberately, determinedly throwing every joke they could think of into the mix, along with virtually every style of comedy that exists. Sight gags, puns, surrealist humour, OTT violence, meta nods and winks — it’s all here. And while not everything hits, the hit-rate is astonishing, and while this isn’t a direct parody, the gag-rate recalls the halcyon days of Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker and Mel Brooks.

It is, though, an utterly demented riff on The Wizard Of Oz, with the innocent hairdresser Gail Daughtry (or Dorothy Gale) and her best friend Otto (have a wild guess what that’s an anagram of) going from Kansas to a land even more demented than Oz: Los Angeles. There, they team up with three utter buffoons in need of a heart, a brain, and courage (Ben Wang, Marino, and John Slattery, on extraordinary form as a total nitwit called John Slattery), who band together to help Gail achieve her goal: to get revenge on her feckless fiancé, who used his Celebrity Sex Pass to cheat on Gail with the A-list Jennifer Aniston, by slammin’ ham with Jon Hamm.

However, unbeknownst to Gail and the gang, a wicked witch of the West Coast, Sabrina Impacciatore’s Mafia boss Ludovica, wants Gail dead, for reasons, and has dispatched her best/worst henchmen (Joe Lo Truglio and Mather Zickel) to track her down.

Will Gail find the yellow brick road that leads to the Hamm behind the curtain? And what will happen behind said curtain if she does meet him? Who will survive, and what will be left of them? The fun is in finding out, as Wain and Marino stud Gail’s path with deliciously daft moments (an extended Slattery/door interface is arguably the film’s funniest bit) and ridiculous obstacles, all of which she meets with boundless enthusiasm. The cast, often bolstered by cameos pulled straight from Wain’s big black book of comedy all-stars (including Wain himself), is outstanding, but it’s the extraordinary Zoey Deutch who is the magic glue, able to effortlessly navigate the film’s frequent tonal shifts with aplomb.

Deutch, who, as the daughter of Pretty In Pink director Howard Deutch and Back To The Future’s Lea Thompson, seemed almost genetically engineered to be a light comedian, has been superb for a few years now, in the likes of Zombieland: Double Tap, Richard Linklater’s Nouvelle Vague, and Voicemails For Isabelle. But this is her biggest role yet, and she snatches the opportunity with both hands, able to smoothly sell those tonal shifts even as Gail’s journey takes her from a naive urchin who thinks tipping 79 cents is generous to… well, that would be spoiling things. But let’s just say there are things that sweet, innocent Gail does that only an actor of considerable charm could pull off. It’s the kind of role that could launch her as a major comedy star, if more than four people see it. Let’s hope that happens.

In a way, it’s apt that this movie comes out in 2026, 25 years after Wain and Marino launched their careers (and about a dozen others, many of whom show up here) with Wet Hot American Summer, a movie that died upon release and now shows up frequently on those Letterboxd lists and think-pieces. That seems almost certain to be Gail Daughtry And The Celebrity Sex Pass’ fate, but it doesn’t have to be that way. You can do something about it. So get out there and do it. Be on the right side of history. Spread the word. But maybe, when you’re spreading the word, just call the film ‘Gail Daughtry’. It’ll be easier that way.