The other guy, better looking and stronger than you, father of the two children you are rearing, covetous of your stable ambient domesticity, questioning your every decision, flouting the love his children exhilarate, doing everything you can't do, outperforming you at work, giving advice that contradicts your tutelage, suddenly living in your once cozy home, awake bright and early, to reclaim that which he discarded.
Carelessly.
Since the time of cave people rivalries such as these have endured, but in the contemporary absence of sabre-toothed tigers and woolly mammoths, the biggest challenge for the reckless alpha, is patiently following smoothly polished bourgeois rules.
Being polite.
Complimenting others.
Nurturing through support.
Restraining violent impulses.
Never thinking, "this sucks."
Dusty Mayron's (Mark Wahlberg) suburban shadow Brad Whitaker (Will Ferrell) must also exercise caution by not attempting to court the exceptional, which he no doubt nevertheless tries to do, kneading knee-jerks as his outputs flounce and flail.
The A+ wild man versus A+ dependability, the disharmonious blend struggling within the uncertainty, great ideas not producing the laughs one might expect, although the virile exchanges offer constructive lessons learned.
Sara (Linda Cardellini) caught in-between.
Panda Smooth Jazz.
Griff (Hannibal Buress) adds solid ridiculous structure as his character functions as unnecessary referee, but Leo Holt (Thomas Haden Church) could have been more inappropriate in his consul.
Consul such as his could have provided even more completely unnecessary distractions from the narrative and refined raunchy and/or gluttonously verbose observations.
The kids are funny and cute, used to exaggerate the conflict as much as possible, the best part of the film.
Which struggles.
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