If you thought 2005’s Are We There Yet? was unendurable, you ain’t seen nothing yet. There’s no level on which you can approach this infuriating, torturous sequel and not want to kill yourself or — more productively, perhaps — someone involved in the making of it. It doesn’t work as a domestic comedy for grownups. It doesn’t work as a cartoon for children. It doesn’t work as basic, internally consistent storytelling. It is an utter disaster of filmmaking as even the most rudimentary kind of brainless entertainment. Oh, and we’re meant to sit by and take it when we’re told that this is a remake of the wonderfully silly 1948 classic Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House. After rightfully calling out her husband for failing to have the rambling old house they just bought properly inspected, Nia Long’s (Premonition) Suzanne consequently is thoroughly charmed by the complete nonsense of having the Realtor who sold them the house (John C. McGinley [Wild Hogs], for his sins) turn out to also be the local inspector who subsequently condemns the house, the local contractor who’s the only one who can fix it, and the local midwife who will birth her soon-to-be-arriving twins. Not only is this mind-numbingly inane, it’s frightfully icky, and that’s before the disgusting slapstick that would make the Three Stooges cringe begins, as the reconstruction work on the house results in grievous bodily harm to her husband, Nick (Ice Cube: XXX: State of the Union), while her bratty children guffaw at his injuries. Perhaps Nick will leave her in the next film in the series, Are We Divorced Yet?