Entertainment

Wedding trashers

Kristen Wiig, left, and Rose Byrne in a scene from “Bridesmaids.”

I may not be the ideal candidate to review a female-driven comedy such as “Bridesmaids,” whose comic high point is the bride crapping in the middle of the street in her gown.

There were a substantial number of people (some of them women) chortling loudly at this overlong, awkward attempt to fuse gross-out humor (à la “The Hangover”) with you-go-girl sentimentality at the screening I attended last week. And not all of them had been out celebrating Cinco de Mayo.

I was among a sizable minority who laughed only occasionally, and periodically checked their watches (a good number of women sat in stony silence throughout). By the time two hours had dragged by, I felt a lot like I had sat through a five-hour wedding.

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Part of this, I think, is how you respond not only to the nonstop assault of vulgarity — this is from the Judd Apatow atelier — but to Kristen Wiig, a talented “Saturday Night Live” regular who has previously only appeared in small parts in movies. For me, she’s an overwhelming personality who works better in small doses.

Wiig, who co-wrote the script, has given herself a huge, ambitious part that she handles well in some scenes, not so great in others. She plays a failed bakeshop owner who hates her part-time job at a jewelry store and is sinking ever deeper into alcoholism, depression and rage.

In short, Wiig’s borderline-sociopath is the last person that her BFF, Maya Rudolph, would, or should, choose as the maid of honor for her impending nuptials.

The bottom begins falling out shortly after our heroine meets the motley collection of other bridesmaids, most notably a wealthy, control-freak new confidante of Rudolph’s (Rose Byrne) who would like nothing better than to stage a coup and take over as maid of honor.

A ladies luncheon at a downscale Spanish restaurant picked by Wiig before gown fittings leads to an orgy of projectile vomiting and defecation, both in a sink and on the street.

The screenwriters told my colleague Sara Stewart this was producer Apatow’s brainstorm — he seems to believe that women among themselves behave every bit as grossly as men. Maybe it’s the romantic in me, but I’d sure like to think this is not really true.

Wiig finally gets replaced by Byrne after a booze- and drug-fueled episode on a pre-wedding jaunt to Las Vegas. Further drunken chaos that she triggers at the bridal shower gets her banned from the ceremony altogether. In real life, Rudolph would probably get an order of protection.

Anyone with the slightest knowledge of chick flicks will be able to figure out where things go from there.

One of my biggest issues with this movie is how the script (co-credited to Annie Mumolo) and director (Apatow acolyte Paul Feig) clumsily toggle between the Wiig character’s serious, fairly realistic issues — including her lack of money after she inevitably gets fired — and the more farcical elements.

Rudolph’s bridegroom barely makes an appearance. Wiig is provided a love interest in the form of an Irish-accented cop (Chris O’Dowd) who sticks around far longer than any sane man would under the circumstances (about 30 seconds).

When he finally does bail on this train wreck, there’s a weird montage of this increasingly obnoxious woman trying to get his attention by ever-more-outrageous means. It’s more alarming than actually funny, and it goes on for what seems like forever.

You’d think a movie called “Bridesmaids” would focus on the bridal attendants more than this one does.

Melissa McCarthy (of TV’s “Mike & Molly”) often steals the show as the randiest and bulkiest of the bunch — she’s clearly meant as a female counterpart to Zack Galifianakis’ character in “The Hangover,”

Except for Byrne, the others have comic opportunities no larger than superfluous characters. These include Wiig’s bizarre (but not especially funny) British brother-and-sister roommates, and Wiig’s recovering-alcoholic mom — sadly played by a frail Jill Clayburgh in her final screen appearance.

As an added fillip, Jon Hamm shows up, uncredited and shirtless in two of his three scenes, as Wiig’s casual sex partner. I’m not sure even this hunk is going to be able to sell a raunchfest like “Bridesmaids” to substantial numbers of women.

lou.lumenick@nypost.com