'A Merry Friggin' Christmas' review: Robin Williams as a lovable grouch

A few minutes into "A Merry Friggin' Christmas," hedge-fund manager Boyd Mitchler (Joel McHale) reunites with his estranged father, Mitch (Robin Williams). It's an occasion for the first of this movie's many uninspired mishaps -- a candle, a pants leg and a fire extinguisher are involved -- but Williams just about saves the scene with two little words.

"You OK?" Mitch asks his son, and the look in his eyes -- that familiar Williams look -- sums up years of unspoken emotions.

Williams, in one of his final roles before his suicide in August, is far more than this lazy, tacky, often offensive comedy deserves. He isn't the only one. Lauren Graham plays Boyd's wife, Luann; Wendi McLendon-Covey and Clark Duke play Boyd's siblings, Shauna and Nelson. The actor in the Santa suit is Oliver Platt; Mitch's long-suffering wife is none other than Candice Bergen.

Dumping all this talent into "A Merry Friggin' Christmas" is like pouring fine Scotch into Sunny Delight. As Boyd drives eight hours on Christmas Eve to get presents for his young son, Doug (Pierce Gagnon), he's joined by his grouchy father and slacker brother, while back at the Mitchler home, the women get stinking drunk (odd, considering Mitch is a recovering alcoholic). Even worse are the racial jokes: Boyd discovers that his housesitter's entire Afghan family is camping in the living room; Nelson adopts a Mexican baby whose favorite lullaby rhymes "hot tamales" with "empanadas." (The word Mexican really cracks this movie up; people say it repeatedly, as if the very idea defies belief.)

Near the end, director Tristram Shapeero gets so desperate and confused that he veers toward dark humor, introducing a body and a chain saw. The notion makes no sense in this PG-13 context and only gives us a new reason to dislike the characters. Screenplay credit goes to Gorb Dorrdt, a writer who appears to be nonexistent. It's a pseudonym, presumably, and if so, understandably.