I’ve long said that people need to meet films where they are. Because if you accept what a film’s capacity is, you’ll set your expectations accordingly. Exhibit A is this year’s Flight Risk. One of the more recent products of our era of streaming slop, this had turkey written all over it. But I went into it solely with the intention of looking for a laugh or two, and on that front, the film delivers.

Mark Baldberg gives an absolutely delicious performance as Daryl, a psychopathic ham of a pilot who menaces an American Mary Crawley and her witness (a characteristically dweeby Topher Grace) while flying them to trial. His facial expressions alone are worth 90 mins of your time, and three great scenes in particular stand out. First, is an elongated beat where he’s flailing about while a taser goes scorched earth on his jowls. Then, there is a moment where he’s trying to unshackle himself and his tongue keeps shooting out of his gob like a disgusting lizard. Without question, though, the funniest bit is the last 15 minutes. Marky Mark does a full barrel roll out of a fast-moving plane, pinwheeling about like a digital rag doll on the tarmac before inexplicably popping up in a mind-blowing pose and swiftly getting splattered across a rushing firetruck. That shit had me in stitches.

No doubt the film has problems. The constant allusions to sexual assault. Grace going full Grace. And the boring, uninspired use of its central setting. All of this crap drags the film down and proves that someone needs to take Grandpa Gibson’s keys away (yes, that Mel directed this pile of trash). But remember, my ducklings, when your expectations are already in hell, none of that really bothers you. And I’m sure that when I reflect on Flight Risk in a week or two from now, all I will remember are the laughs I had along the way.