Dude, Where's My Car?

Car-less and amnesiac the day after a pardee, stoners Jesse (Kutcher) and Chester (Scott) set about retracing their steps in order to find some gifts they hope will tempt their girlfriends into bed. The gifts are in the car: cue endless repetitions of the title. So where is it? 'Dude' and 'Sweet' are soon mixed up with, in no particular order, 'dressing up box' aliens, spiteful ostriches, a murderous transvestite and a posse of 'black-clad sluts and bitches' who keep promising them oral sex in exchange for something called a continuum transfunctioner, capable of blowing up the universe. Whaddever. Fine, the ambitions are low brow and the characters so artificially dumb they bear no relation to human beings - and we're not talking about the aliens here. The real problem with the shoddy looking, rabidly heterosexual and relentlessly sexist movie is that it hasn't a scrap of goodwill towards anyone.