The unlikely duo of soft-spoken husband Greg Focker (Stiller) and commanding father-in-law Jack Tiberius (De Niro) reunite in Little Fockers for another feast of debacles and bodily function mishaps. By now, the comedic dichotomy that made the first film a hoot and the sequel an inoffensive time-killer has been completely depleted. The new Fockers is not only contrived and messy; it’s also alarmingly unfunny.

Patriarch Jack has an awakening as a result of recent heart problems. He visits the Fockers as they are about to celebrate their twins' fifth birthday, and Jack decides to stay in their house for weeks not only to attend the party; he also wants to pass the torch to Greg and appoint him as– cue music– the new Godfather.

Immediately, Jack questions his own decision, and again he closely monitors Greg for any discrepancies. Unfortunately, Greg is being seduced by a sexy pharmaceutical company representative Andi Garcia (Alba), which leads Jack to conclude that the two are having an affair. Jack even tells his daughter Pam (Pollo) to dump Greg and go for Kevin Rawley (Wilson), her wealthy and still eager ex-fiancé.

The only impressive thing about Little Fockers is the roaster of talent involved. There is a moot Harvey Keitel bantering with De Niro about holes in the ground, Dustin Hoffman and Barbra Streisand shamelessly bragging about their sexual kinks, and a disengaged De Niro who miraculously delivers the loudest outbursts without an iota of threat or sincerity.

Little Fockers has a fair amount of comedy set-pieces; few of which work, but the rest are embarrassing and painfully unfunny. There was a charming truth to the awkwardness of Meet the Parents; a relatable predicament that all married couples go through to some extent. That reality is no longer present in this third instalment; the film is filled with endless jokes about Viagra, vomit and farts. At least, Little Fockers is courteous enough to run for a tidy hour and a half.