Joy Ride (2023)

Joy Ride is the kind of gloriously unfiltered studio comedy we don’t get often anymore: loud, fearless, and so densely packed with laughs that it feels like it’s sprinting to keep up with its own bad ideas. Adele Lim lets the chaos fly, but what makes it special is the warmth underneath—the way Audrey, Lolo, Kat, and Deadeye bicker, bond, and show up for each other with a messy sincerity that turns raunch into something oddly moving. The cast has crackling chemistry, with every scene playing like friends daring one another to go further, and the movie’s vibe is a jet-lagged, neon-lit odyssey where identity and belonging sneak in through the side door. Fair warning: it’s extremely R-rated and proudly crude, so if you don’t like sex-and-drugs comedy, steer clear—but if you do, this one delivers big, and it has a real heart beating under the debauchery.

Joy Ride is trying to be a raunchy, unapologetically chaotic buddy comedy with a real emotional spine about identity, adoption, and belonging, and you can feel the intention to let these women be as messy and loud as any male-led gross-out classic. The problem is it often pushes so hard for shock and “go bigger” set pieces that the comedy can feel overworked, with volume and excess doing the job that sharper punchlines might’ve done better. If you’re not into explicit sex jokes, heavy drug-fueled antics, and characters making spectacularly bad decisions for laughs, this will probably feel exhausting rather than liberating. Still, the cast has strong chemistry and there are genuine, sweet beats underneath the mayhem—so if you like your comedies filthy, fast, and heartfelt in equal measure, it may land for you.