Their chemistry on “Saturday Night Live Weekend Update” was palpable so it’s a no-brainer that somebody would eventually bring the talents of Tina Fey and Amy Poehler back together on a big screen project. While Amy has been languishing in SNL hell for the past few seasons, Tina has become somewhat of a media darling for whom I’m convinced could probably film herself taking a shit and critics would somehow find a way to praise it. Both ladies are up to the task, appearing in a film that not only offers them plenty of face time (and in Tina’s case, leg time) but also a chance to flaunt their ability as actresses. With these two ladies one might immediately assume that the film would be just a series of slightly improvised, punchy skit-pieces that have been thrown together around a thin narrative about a white-trash surrogate mother and the uppity businesswoman who hired her. Interestingly, that’s not the direction that first time director Michael McCullers chooses to go. Here, the structure is more cohesive, and it allows for Tina and Amy, in their roles, to derive humour from the type of human situations and personal interactions that most people can relate to. Sadly, the script is problematic, as the plot takes off in a bizarre direction at about the halfway point, moving towards the eventual and formulaic even mean-spirited final quarter. Having garnered much wealth and fame from his writing gigs on “Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me” as well as half dozen other films over the last decade, Michael McCullers’ insulated, too-rich, lifestyle is beginning to bleed through into his material. It might not be obvious to everyone, but while watching this film I couldn’t but help but sense something very ugly and elitist at work here, something that left both my friend and I squirming in our seats at the theatre.

Having spent most of her life ascending to the top of corporate ladder of the organic grocery store chain where she is employed, Kate Holbrook (Tina Fey) finds herself living the lavish lifestyle she’s always wanted, complete with a steady six figure income and a spacious Philadelphia apartment. Sadly, because so much of her attention was focused on her career, Kate, now in her late-thirties, finds herself all alone and without a child, a child she very much longs for. Realizing that her biological clock is near chime time, Kate attempts at in vitro fertilisation don’t take because, as the doctor puts it, she has 'a T-shaped uterus’ which makes her chances of pregnancy very unlikely. In desperation, Kate checks out a local surrogacy center, headed up by Chaffee Bicknell (Sigourney Weaver) who, for the paltry sum of one hundred thousand dollars, can secure a surrogate mother who will carry Kate’s fertilized egg to term and then disappear once it is birthed. Of course the surrogate mom is none other than the smoking, drinking, junk food chewing, white-trash, suicide-blonde Angie Ostrowiski (Amy Poehler), whose attempts at etiquette involve miss-pronouncing French architectural terms and wearing outfits with no stains on them. One day, after a particularly bad break up with her heavily tattooed common law husband Carl (Dax Shepard), Angie comes knocking on Kate’s door looking for a couch to sleep on. Since she’s carrying her child, Kate feels somewhat obliged to help. Their lifestyles clash at first, but over time, these two social and intellectual opposites grow increasingly fond of each other. While Kate works to improve Angie’s dietary habits and maybe encourage some direction in her life, Angie in turn helps the hyper-neurotic Kate to relax; to breath in life, and to maybe get out and socialize every once in awhile. Angie’s lessens, strangely, also work to give Kate’s life direction, or at least a jumping off point to that future course. However, lurking beneath the surface is a secret that could destroy all of Kate’s dreams of parental bliss.

After the feeble, gimmicky-feeling premise involving Tina’s urgency to have a baby helps push-start the film into some kind of forward momentum, we quickly discover that writer McCullers doesn’t really have the chops to make the most of what he has created. A great example of this comes when Angie is uprooted and forced to flop at Kate’s apartment. There’s plenty of missed comic possibilities that could have arisen from this class-conflict; pitting the shallow and neurotic, Kate, the kind of superficial woman who can afford to spend one-hundred thousand dollars in the same way one might throw out pocket change for some gum, against greasy po’ folk Angie, the type of uneducated dope who listens to rap, enjoys “America’s Funniest Home Videos” and has to win radio call-in games in order to see the arena football game because she and her man can’t necessarily afford tickets. Whatever gold he could have dredged from such a potentially hilarious arrangement is immediately lost in a sea of infantile bathroom humour, contrived musical numbers and a never-ending advertisement for American Idol Karaoke.

Some of the missed opportunities speak to something else going on with this film, something I alluded to earlier. A decade in the business has made Michael McCullers a bit of an elitist asshole, and it’s this attitude, passed off mockingly as humour, which severely weighs the picture down. McCullers seems to find great comic appeal in denigrating the poor and working class, be it their sense of style, the clothes they wear or the music they listen to, it’s all to be laughed at. Tina Fey’s character, one of those disgustingly wealthy types who pisses away money on such ridiculous crap as strollers with airbags, at least has her dignity, however, the same can't be said for Poehler's character. McCuller’s contempt for the poor is never more apparent than during a particularly nasty sequence at film’s end where Kate places Angie in her place, letting her know exactly her worth as a human based solely on her economic status. This moment simply reeks of the writer’s own self-righteous smugness and distinct loathing for those who actually work for their money. Did I mention how incredibly racist the film is? Oh wait, there’s that too. My friend and I went to an early showing of the film and sitting in front of us was a black man and his child. At one point in the film, and for no apparent reason, one of the white characters, Kate's mother, Rose, Holland Taylor (2000's "Mail To The Chief"), goes off on a diatribe about “black babies” that is so downright ugly and stupid that whatever attempt at comedy McCullers was shooting for here was totally lost on my friend and I. There’s also the jive-talking black guy (Romany Malco) for which the film derives its hip-sounding title. I thought that maybe Malco would factor into the story in a huge way, giving the "black babies" diatbribe some kind of context but, alas, it was not to be and all we're left with is a whole bunch of squirm inducing moments. Oh wait, there's a shot of Holland and Romany dancing together in the credits so I guess all is forgiven.

Also going on is a side story involving Greg Kinnear (2000's "Loser"), a smoothie shop owner, Rob, who also seems to be the one Kate has butterflys for. For Rob, Kate represents big business, moving in to threaten his livelihood. We’ve seen this before in movies like “You’ve Got Mail” but here the conflict and consequences of this situation are never given more than a passing comment. If you're a small business owner, I guess that resistance is futile especially in the face of a big corporation. Regarding the relationship between Rob and Kate, or what there is of it, it is underwritten and the timing is a little too perfect, setting up a twist ending that will surely not leave audiences all that surprised. In fact, the film becomes almost illogical, and reasons that a formulaic reconciliation and a sappy ending will leave the viewers rejoicing. Sadly, it's just a little too tidy for my liking and I was less than impresed by the time the credits started rolling.

I've always found Tina Fey (2006's "Beer League") kind of an oddity in the acting department. She has this way about her that suggests that she's aware of the audience, aware of the camera, and is unable to commit to the notion that she's an actress. With "Baby Mama" she really doesn't break any new ground, playing essentially the same dry, rigid character she has played many times before. To be kind, Tina's one of those rare actresses that conveys a sense of intelligence and class in whatever she does, however, I think it would be a stretch for her if she ever opted to play the kind of character Poehler played here. As for Amy Poehler (1999's "Deuce Bigelow: Male Gigolo"), she seems like a very daring performer, willing take risks with her comedy, and judging from the scene where she urinates into a sink, her image, as well. Interestingly, my friend and I overheard somebody in the theatre whisperering that Ms. Poehler could piss in their sink anytime. Too bad the actual on-screen joke wasn't as funny. Even though they have minor roles, Steve Martin (1983's "Man With Two Brains"), as Kate's Zen-like boss, and Dax Shepard (2007's "The Comebacks"), as the common law hubby from hell, are absolute scene stealers whenever they show up. The sequence in the courtroom where Dax addresses the judge as "Your Highness" had me laughing. Siobhan Fallon (2003's "Daddy Day Care"), as the goofy-voiced birthing coach, is also quite funny in a very minor role.

Lastly, and yeah, this has to be said. I'd hate to sound like I'm somehow minimizing Tina Fey's talent or intelligence, because I'm not, or at least that's not my intention. I just have to point out that she has easily the most incredible legs I've ever seen. It barely comes as a surprise when one of the other female characters, midway into the film, makes a comment about how great they are. After awhile it became pretty apparent that director Michael McCullers, cinematographer Daryn Okada and editor Bruce Green and even Tina Fey herself, knew the gift they had in Ms. Fey’s legs because, well, they appear a lot, and I mean a lot. Dancing between tight close-ups and long shots, after awhile it becomes evident that everyone was conspiring to give Tina’s awesome calf-swollen tree-trunks as much screen time as possible and before you think I’m losing it, go and see for yourself.

In the end, "Baby Mama" is not a great film. I'd recommend waiting for it to come out on DVD because you'll definitely feel duped if you spend money on a ticket, as I did.