'Wild Hogs,' purporkedly a comedy, fails to deliver even scrapple

Midway through the terrifyingly laughless "Wild Hogs," it occurred to me the movie was not a comedy at all, but something out of Revelations.

John Travolta, Tim Allen, Martin Lawrence and William H. Macy astride Harleys and rumbling into the blazing sun - could these be the four horsemen of biblical prophecy?

Could the apocalypse be nigh?

And lo, they shall be paunchy, and appear to you in leather pants, and sometimes without pants, and William H. Macy shall make out with Marisa Tomei, and ye shall gag, and be very afraid.

Ye shall not, alas, be amused.

Look to next year's Golden Raspberry awards for further information about "Wild Hogs," a comedy so badly conceived and executed it can only be the combined box office draw of the bankable leads that convinced the studio to release it at all.

Allen, Lawrence, Travolta and Macy play four Midwestern pals who face down midlife issues (broke, henpecked, obsolete, lonely) by hopping on bikes and setting out to look for America, themselves, etc.

Viewers choose from a meager gag menu that includes terrible slapstick (Tim Allen sets their camping gear on fire with a flaming marshmallow) and lame writing - there's a running joke about Macy's neat-freak character keeping his poop in a plastic bag.

John C. McGinley pops up as a gay trooper who thinks the men are headed to Brokeback Mountain, and Ray Liotta does a watered down, embarrassed version of his "Something Wild" turn, playing the leader of an outlaw biker gang that wants to give the Wild Hogs a beat down.

The movie ends with an ode to "Easy Rider," but without the satisfaction of seeing any of the characters gunned down by hicks. *

Produced by Mike Tollin, Brian Robbins and Todd Lieberman, directed by Walt Becker, written by Brad Copeland, music by Teddy Castellucci, distirbuted by Buena Vista Pictures.