When committing to a viewing of Greener Grass, it’s important to know what you’re in for: Not even four minutes in, the lead character gives her baby away to her admiring best friend. This on-a-whim ceding of parental rights is played for laughs.

If you don’t find any humor in that (much less the incontinent grade schooler to come), I offer these irrefutable, inconvenient truths:
1. Greener Grass is most decidedly not for you.
2. You are wrong.

Expanded for the better from its creators’ 2015 short, Greener Grass is not only the funniest film of the year thus far, but destined to grow in estimation as the right audiences find it (versus the other way around) and a fervent cult forms. Much like David Byrne’s initially ignored, now-celebrated True Stories, its loose vignettes form an absurdist whole that redefines deadpan.

Written and directed by its stars, Upright Citizens Brigade alum Jocelyn DeBoer and Dawn Luebbe, this satire of the suburbs posits an upper-middle-class middle America covered in a puke of pastels — a neighborhood where golf carts have replaced cars, children bear names like Citronella, and all the adults wear braces on their teeth. Those smiles may be forced, but the movie’s humor isn’t. Lines such as “Do people like my peas?” aren’t read as jokes, because the cast — including current Saturday Night Live utility player Beck Bennett — exudes confidence in knowing viewers attuned to Grass’ admittedly narrow wavelength of peculiarity will catch them.

The ostensible plot — a yoga-teacher neighbor is murdered by the local grocery store bagger — is, much like the characters DeBoer and Luebbe so skillfully skewer, just for show. That both ladies very much look the part makes their pic all the more deliciously subversive. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Since having a stroke over a year ago, I’ve lost close to 200 pounds. And, even though I’m considerably older than the titular Brittany in Brittany Runs a Marathon, how the world’s opinion changes — for good and bad — when you drastically change yourself is so honestly depicted here that, unless you’ve been through it, you’ll probably never understand.

Good-time girl Brittany (Jillian Bell, Rough Night) is an overweight party animal who lives primarily on Adderall, self-deprecation and random hook-ups, which, as you’d imagine, depresses the hell out of her. When a doctor advises her to lose 50 pounds, she attempts to get her shit together and starts running around New York with her recently divorced uppity neighbor and a gay dad trying to earn the respect of his son.

The tribulations that Brittany goes through to get to the marathon, from dealing with random food binges to mysterious leg pains to an Instagram roommate who tells her she be fat again soon, is an earnest account of an unhealthy person trying to change not only her outer self, but her inner self as well. That being said, it is also dramatically funny at times when it doesn’t intrinsically hurt.

Bell does a good job channeling these massive insecurities with a fully acerbic wit, but the whole romantic subplot with slacker dog-sitter Jern (Utkarsh Ambudkar, Freaks of Nature) feels a bit shoehorned in, at times threatening to turn Brittany into a stereotypical rom-com; thankfully, director Paul Downs Colaizzo always pulls back when venturing in that territory and returning the focus to Brittany and her own self-improvement.

Of course, I’ve gone through my own journey alone, so maybe I’m just bitter in that regard. —Louis Fowler

Of all the movies from the 1980s loosely based on an Oingo Boingo tune, Weird Science still remains the breast — uh, I mean best – of the lot.

Coming off his back-to-back directorial triumphs of Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club, even John Hughes was seemingly tired of all the laid-thick teen pathos; for his next film, he opted for a raunchy teen sex comedy where, instead of having what I feel would have been a full weekend of absolutely incredible lovemaking with Kelly LeBrock, the youngsters learn about themselves and each other. Good for them, I guess.

Gary and Wyatt (Anthony Michael Hall and Ilan Mitchell-Smith, respectively) are two teen-movie approved geeks repeatedly picked on by their horrible mulleted classmates. Instead of making a Terminator-like killing machine to wreak cold-blooded revenge on them, using their highly advanced (even for 1985) computer, they break into the Pentagon’s data files and invariably create The Woman in Red, seemingly just to stare at from afar.

Lisa (LeBrock) is not only a gorgeous mature sexpot, but also has cyber-enhanced powers, warping time and space to fit whatever mood she’s in; great for us (but sadly for the impoverished children of the world), those powers mostly go into throwing the wildest party this side of the ’80s, complete with nuclear missiles, a piano getting sucked through the chimney and an appearance by The Road Warrior’s Vernon Wells as a post-apocalyptic biker.

LeBrock was perfectly cast in an icon-making role, but that’s not to say Hall or Mitchell-Smith are by any means shabby in their archetypical nerd roles that defined a generation of dorks for HBO-obsessed youths; that being said, a special lifetime achievement award of some sort should have gone to Bill Paxton for the role of the meathead older bro Chet, mostly for introducing the phrase “You’re stewed, buttwad!” to the lexicon.

The gorgeous Arrow Video release of Weird Science not only delivers a 4K restoration, but both the theatrical and television versions of the flick are present, the latter of which is twice as funny for its barely legible curse-word redubs, which is especially great for the story where the girl of Gary’s dreams kicks him in the “guts” and calls him a “braggart” in front of everyone. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

My recent throat surgeon was from New Zealand, and even though he was completely no-nonsense, I kept waiting for him to crack a simplistic joke, mostly because the night before my pre-op, I watched the guffaw-getting Mega Time Squad, the new temporal-twisting flick from Tim van Dammen, the director of the trailer-park musical Romeo and Juliet: A Love Song.

Low-level neighborhood criminal John (Anton Tennet) wreaks polite havoc in the small town of Thames, New Zealand, famous for its tourist-trap outdoor toilet. When he’s politely betrayed by his best friend over a few dollars worth of stolen Chinese money, he uses an ancient Asian amulet, politely stolen in the same robbery, to go back in time, a few minutes at a time.

Much like the far more serious Timecrimes, various incarnations of John run into each other, eventually teaming up to become the titular Mega Time Squad, despite that fact it could resurrect an infernal demon hellbent on destroying the time-space continuum unless all the replicas themselves are killed in outlandishly gory ways.

With help from his polite, suicide bomb vest-making girlfriend, Kelly (Hetty Gaskell-Hahn), John has to not only defeat the area crime team made up of locals working their way through night school, but also the so-called Triads and an army of increasingly irritated Johns, as piss-poor shots from .22s injures eyes, well-aimed slingshots cause major welts and explosions galore, all done in very dry, very clever and very polite ways, all with absolutely no meaning.

Come to think of it, my throat surgeon — a qualified man of medicine — was also very polite. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

Take one middle-aged misanthrope with a block of ice where a heart should be. Mix in one child with unconventional social skills. Shake lightly. Let simmer for 90 minutes, give or take.

That’s hardly a new recipe for the movies (see: The Bad News Bears, Bad Santa, St. Vincent, et al.), yet one good reason exists for its refusal to fade away: When made correctly, the end result can be most satisfying.

Laura Steinel’s Family is most satisfying. Its initially loathsome, crusty center is Kate (Taylor Schilling, The Prodigy), so career-driven she apparently has never met — nor knows the name of — her only niece, Maddie (Bryn Vale, TV’s Red Band Society). While that’s hard to believe in real life, it’s the stuff of cringe comedy, which kicks into high gear when heretofore-absent Aunt Kate is forced to babysit the tween Maddie for a few long days and longer nights. Naturally, the two have little have in common; Kate likes her 401(k) and perceived superiority, while Maddie is more into, oh, chicken parmesan and magic swords.

Wise beyond her years and awkward as a three-dollar cryptocurrency, Maddie desperately seeks a familial connection that neither her parents nor Kate can provide. Mom and Dad (Krampus’ Allison Tolman and Jurassic World’s Eric Edelstein), while loving and well-meaning, don’t understand her; Kate simply doesn’t give a fuck. Well, at least not at first. She starts to turn around once Maddie entertains becoming a disciple of the hip-hop act Insane Clown Posse — you know, a Juggalo.

Having only seen Schilling in dramas, I found her to be revelatory. She is not afraid to go deep on portraying the hateful Kate, and that devotion is key to making her character’s arc work. She’s even funnier than the film’s real Kate, as in McKinnon (Office Christmas Party), who plays the nosy next-door neighbor. However, both ladies have Family stolen right out from under them by 20-year-old Fabrizio Zacharee Guido (World War Z) as Dennis, the convenience store worker who introduces Maddie to Insane Clown Posse and, accordingly, calls himself Baby Joker. Family is never more hilarious — and it is often that — than when he’s onscreen.

You’ll be glad this Family isn’t yours, but grateful of the time spent together. —Rod Lott