We hope that Rick Groen and the Toronto Globe and Mail will forgive us for printing his entire review of Tomcats here. Given its length, it could not be otherwise, and the review expresses the opinions of virtually all of his movie-critic colleagues: "How much time are you willing to waste reading a review of a movie that wastes your time completely? Let's set a one-minute/one-sentence limit with the clock starting now: The tomcats in Tomcats are a bunch of bachelors who make a bet on who among them will stay single the longest, which seems like a fool's wager to us 'cause what self-respecting woman would look twice at any one of these chauvinistic morons, but the plot demands otherwise even though it's really just a cardboard hat rack for a succession of gross-out jokes so ineptly edited as to make the Farrelly boys look like auteurs, and that blindly follow the now-standard checklist of male erections and female breasts and onanistic jerks making donations to sperm banks and leather-clad gals wielding whips and conventional foodstuff merrily puked up and unconventional foodstuff unhappily ingested, and there's nothing inherently wrong with any of this, since comedy can be as gross or black or offensive as it wants so long as it accomplishes the hard job of making us laugh, but this thing doesn't, not once."