Even though it doesn't have a story, characters, or setting, Heidi Murkoff's mega-bestselling, 28-year-old pregnancy manual, What to Expect When You're Expecting, actually makes perfect sense as a vehicle for a contemporary Hollywood ensemble comedy. For an industry banked on bathroom humor, what could be more suitable than this vomit-, piss-, fart-, foreskin-, and flabby-vagina-filled tome? As adapted by Shauna Cross and Heather Hach and directed by Kirk Jones, the film similarly fails to tell a coherent story, create believable characters, or establish any sense of place (its Atlanta is strenuously Anywheresville). It, too, capitalizes on the anxious-mom demographic and proves equally preoccupied with pregnancy's corporeal side effects. The difference, of course, is that for all the fear, loathing, and overthinking that Murkoff's bedside text engenders, its journey ends with the hopeful beginning of a new life, whereas the movie leaves you hoping for a swift end to your own.
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