The Greatest Beer Run Ever

Further proof that Farrelly did better, more charming work when he ballasted his soft side with raunch.

Though the messaging is a bit flat-footed, it’s nonetheless effective and clearly deeply felt, and it brings a sense of significance to this otherwise wacky real-life story, one that really does have to be seen to be believed.



[A] crass and manipulative warsploitation picture.

It doesn’t fully work, but it’s not a crime against humanity. And Efron carries the whole thing ably on his shoulders.

While well-intentioned, [it] just feels forced.

It fills in the gaps with hackneyed lessons in "war is bad"-ism, along with Chickie's slow awakening that — newsflash! — maybe Vietnam wasn't being fought for the right reasons...

Its emotional core is hollow, the humor misses as often as it hits, and it leaves you with nothing new to think about.

In The Greatest Beer Run Ever, [war] sort of is made for television. The filmmakers try to have their PBR-flavored cake and eat it too—and that just doesn’t fly in a movie about the lies and deception of mass murder that was Vietnam.

Like the Pabst Blue Ribbon beer that it shills, The Greatest Beer Run Ever is a watered-down, unwelcome assault on the senses, unfit for consumption by anyone with working taste buds.

In its two-hour runtime, the drama makes you chuckle and cry in equal measure, and all credits go to the writers for the characterisation of the protagonist, and to Zac Efron and Russell Crowe’s performances.