For the first half of Forgetting Sarah Marshall , I laughed out loud almost nonstop. Deliciously rife with Apatowian elements — bumbling self-deprecating characters, bawdy jokes, "call-'em-like-I-see-'em" bits of social commentary — it's a satisfying parade of sarcasm and sight gags. It even begins with a shamelessly, utterly nude Jason Segel, a move I fully admire. Yet somewhere along the ...