Australian comic Shane Jacobson, who has the body of a lumberjack and the sweetly innocent face of a newborn, makes his bid for Crocodile Dundee–style crossover stardom with this crude (in every sense) but surprisingly charming mockumentary about the life of a "corporate bathroom rentals" serviceman. A sort of philosopher of the Port-O-Let, Kenny holds forth with double-entendre-laden pocket wisdom ("It's not like my business is going to dry up overnight, is it?") while trying to keep the lid (as it were) on a series of predictable personal conflicts—a difficult ex-wife, a disapproving father and brother, a son he doesn't want to disappoint—and, eventually, traveling business (what else?) class to an international toilet convention in Nashville. Borat this isn't, but what keeps the film consistently winning is Jacobson himself, and the character's laissez-faire attitude toward matters of human waste. Though I'd hardly call it a Marxist tract, Kenny offers a useful reminder that whether we're the rowdy revelers at a drag race or the high-society belles at the Melbourne Cup, we all shit the same way. Or, to quote Kenny himself, "There's no pecking order in poo."