I don’t want to overstate its merits, really, because Wild Hogs is driven by overly demonstrative sitcom-type acting, anchored by a number of flat, desultory set pieces and set to all the music cues you wholly expect, from Foghat’s “Slow Ride” and George Thorogood & The Destroyers’ “Who Do You Love” to AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” and The Allman Brothers Band’s “Midnight Rider.” But if one squints a bit, they can sort of grasp the appeal of these elements, which all mixed together helped make this road comedy one of the biggest hits of the spring of 2007, pulling in over $165 million domestically and another $85 million or so abroad.

John Travolta is Woody, a high-powered broker who’s lost both his wife and his white-collar lifestyle; Martin Lawrence is the hen-pecked Bobby, who quit his job as a plumber to write a book but now finds himself facing pressure to get back to work; William H. Macy, meanwhile, is Dudley, a pathologically shy computer geek who maps out every moment of his days.

That these four would ever be friends, let alone owners of motorcycles who nostalgically pine for riding days gone by, is of course a huge stretch. On the other hand, if a movie can ever be described as, say, a single notch greater than the expected sum of its disingenuous parts, that might be the best way to explain the fleeting entertainment that Wild Hogs provides. There definitely isn’t much in the way of insight into the “weekend warrior” mentality that purportedly serves as the movie’s narrative lynchpin, and the film certainly won’t provide memorable laughs that will stick with you much beyond the day of viewing. Still, through pure contrast of character, a very few unexpected avenues of brief exploration and a couple of comedic showcases which allow Lawrence and Allen to flaunt their demonstrative, small screen-fed personas, Wild Hogs plays as a pleasingly broad diversion, provided one’s level of anticipation is properly adjusted a good bit downwards.

There’s a strange and somewhat dispiriting undercurrent of gay jokes, embodied by John C. McGinley’s recurrent highway trooper, but the main thing the movie has going for it is some nice contributions from charming bit players. These include Ray Liotta as the menacing leader of a Hell’s Angels-ish motorcycle gang who provides the bulk of the film’s sneering antagonism, and Marisa Tomei (above left), who as small town diner owner Maggie serves as the object of Dudley’s affection.

Housed in a regular Amray case stored in turn in a cardboard slipcover with raised, embossed lettering and the like, Wild Hogs is presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, preserving the aspect ratio of the movie’s original theatrical presentation. English, Spanish and French subtitles complement a trio of Dolby digital 5.1 surround audio tracks in the same languages, all of which more than adequately handle the film’s straightforward sound design, which pumps up the bass on its motorcycle throttlings but otherwise sticks to the meat-and-potatoes approach of fairly discrete, hearty dialogue and music mixes. Apart from bonus trailers, the DVD’s copious supplemental material consists of a feature-length audio commentary track with director Walt Becker and writer Brad Copeland; a 16-minute making-of featurette with plenty of back-slapping cast and crew interviews; an alternate ending and two deleted scenes; a clutch of genial flubs and outtakes; and a three-minute primer on chopper ownership for the family man, narrated by Jack Gill, the movie’s stunt coordinator. There’s also a 90-second Easter egg that looks at the contributions of the bickering American Chopper guys to the film. To order Wild Hogs via Amazon, click here. C+ (Movie) B+ (Disc)