J. R. Jones
The movie plays like Mean Girls with a big dollop of middle-aged wish fulfillment.
Although all these actors prove the shrewd casting choices of Bad Moms, it is Hahn who makes this unassuming summer blockbuster something close to stellar.
Hahn hijacks the film and makes it her showcase. She's rude and crude in a physical, full-body performance, and half her lines seem improvised, because she spits them out like a spray of machine gun bullets.
It's a movie with a subversive skepticism about traditional white picket fence domesticity in general.
A female-driven story that doesn't shy away from bad behavior while also touting the importance of familial bonds and solid parenting choices.
The movie cops out by going soft in the end, but it's still hardcore hilarity for stressed moms looking for a girls night out.
Bright and fast and absurd and sloppy, a flick that lives - or dies - by how much you dig watching Bell wear a pink hoodie and pretend to be an uncircumcised penis. (Answer: a lot.)
Mildly amusing, moderately raunchy, mostly schematic ...
Bad Moms had so many opportunities to be great, edgy and insightful, but instead settles for the most milquetoast commentary possible on modern motherhood.