Filler entertainment for sure, We’re the Millers is caught somewhere in between the hard-R, cuss-laden adult comedy and your run-of-the-mill, PG-13 family comedy with a soul. It stokes enough laughs to keep the engine churning for its 110 minute run time but when all is said and done, it’s just another comedy kept buoyant by chuckles with little living behind the curtain, sloppily saddled with a moral message far out of its natural reach. You won’t walk out regretting what you’ve seen but you’ll be hard pressed to remember it by name a year down the line.

Proving that he knows how to milk a good laugh, director Rawson Marshall Thurber is no stranger to comedy. Back in 2004, he directed the much revered (at least by this guy and his high school buddies) Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story. In case you are wondering, yes, that is the movie you’re thinking of. Apparently the world just forgot about the most unnecessarily tacked on post-colon fragment of all time in the whole “A True Understory Story” bit but trust me (and IMDB), it’s part of the name.

While Thurber was the solitary writer behind the laugh riot that was Dodgeball, We’re the Millers has an exorbitant six writers. If writing duties were shared evenly, that calculates to about 18 minutes from each scribe. No wonder the film feels so tonally jarring, rocking back and forth between sweet and sour, shmaltzy and irreverent. When you finally feel like you have a read on Thurber’s voice, it turns on a dime from lewd to sentimental and back again. Like an amusement park ride that spins more than it moves forward, the result is dizzying, disorienting and may make you wanna puke.

Theexalted Dodgeball also had Ben Stiller, Vince Vaughn and a pre-pariah Lance Armstrong working for it while We’re the Millers rests on the comedic shoulders of Jason Sudeikis and Jennifer Aniston. Sudeikis was a pleasant surprise in Horrible Bosses but he’s still something of an unproven talent while Aniston has largely played the same girl next door with boy issues every since her role as Rachel on Friends. She certainly did break character in Horrible Bosses as the pushy sexual deviant boss, which ultimately resulted in one of the biggest breaths of fresh air in her entire career. For some of her onscreen time in this, she captures a similarly charmless aura but, about halfway through, descends to the flippant level we’ve come to expect of her.

And although this isn’t Sudekis’s first rodeo, it is essentially his first go-around as the leading man. As a supporting character, Sudekis thrives with his bohemian dude-isms. He’s that silent bomber that swoops in and steals the laugh but here, he owns the pony show and is happy to try and strike at all the bells and whistles. Even in moments where the film stagnates, he satisfying leads the cast with his easygoing, quip-laden energy and eager beaver physical comedy.

Sudekis plays the role of David Clark, a 30-something burn out drug dealer working for his nerdy-college-buddy-turned-pot-kingpin (Ed Helms). When David gets robbed by a fuzzy-haired pack of hoods, he is enlisted to carry a smidge and a half of pot (read two hundred pounds) over from the dusty lawlessness of Mexico. In an attempt to be inconspicuous, he employs stripper neighbor, Rose (Aniston), apartment twerp/dork/loser/virgin, Kenny (Will Poulter), and hood-rat hobo with an iPhone 5, Casey (Emma Roberts) to impersonate a hapless, all American family on an RV vacation. Naturally, the border guards wouldn’t suspect a pink polo-sporting family to be smuggling tens of millions of dollars worth of sweet, sticky ganja across the heavily guarded US border.

There are moments of stitch-inducing laughs peppered throughout but it’s hard to shake the feeling that this is a minor experience in a minor film. Nonetheless, there are moments that really got a rise out of me, such as an impromptu learning-to-kiss seminar that is gruelingly awkward as well as various asides from Sudekis, spoken or even just mouthed, but two days after watching the film and the effects have already mostly washed off. Regardless of its relative levity and how easy it is to write off, it was a film that I didn’t feel bad snickering at alongside the audience exploding in a cacophony of laughter around me. In terms of the immediate experience of having a good time at the movies, We’re the Millers accomplishes that goal.

What I did have an issue with is the shoehorning in of moral lessons surrounding the troubles of drug dealing. There’s a sort of implied agreement that if you’re going to see a stoner comedy about a sourpatch burnout slinging bags of weed with names like “Fucking Awesome” and “Alaska Thunderfuck” then you don’t really have any moral credo against the illicit substance. We don’t need to be told that drug dealing is bad and, by extension, don’t need to see our hero turn away from it in order to understand that he’s actually a good guy.

There was never a “Cheech and Chong Turn Narcs!” for a reason just as Pineapple Express didn’t end with James Franco and Seth Rogen swearing off the substance forever. It’s an unnecessary turning point for a film that already is trying to stand for the importance of the family. Being a comedy with a little bit of a message is one thing. Being a moral guard of the US War on Drugs is quite another. Had they just stuck by the idea that things are better in twos, or threes, or fours, it could have had enough of a sugarcoat to satisfy the older demographics but instead it tilts too far into preachy, moral guardianship. By the end, two is two too many ethical judgments for this comedy to cram in.

But, let’s not get too down on it. It’s a fun movie right? That’s the point, right? Surely, but it’s also the reason why I won’t be prancing through town singing its praises. I thought the ongoing Scotty P. “You know what I’m sayin'” gag was hilarious, I laughed a lot when Kenny was in the throes of a kiss gangbang and even Jennifer Aniston hit more than she missed (even if she should retire stripping from her resume as soon as possible). But in the end, it’s not much more than throwaway entertainment that’ll see a meager return on its investment, have a quick HBO run and disappear into the same discount bin that Horrible Bosses lingers in today a mere two years after its release.

C+