It appears that we’re gonna have to call on women to bring back the R-rated comedy.

A couple of weekends ago, Oscar winner Jennifer Lawrence showed up at multiplexes literally letting it all hang out (she’s fighting with people butt-bald-nekkid on the beach!?) in the raunchy comedy No Hard Feelings, which is still a top-five fave at the box office. Now, we have Joy Ride, not to be confused with the myriad movies that have the same title (including this Olivia Colman movie that came out last Christmas).

This one can be described as Girls Trip for Asians. Of course, Trip was Bridesmaids for the sistas, and Bridesmaids was basically The Hangover with white ladies. But let’s concentrate on the new movie, which, like so many Apatow-era comedies, revolves around a longtime friendship that’s on the verge of breaking apart.

Audrey (Emily in Paris’s Ashley Park) and Lolo (Good Trouble’s Sherry Cola) have been pals since they were kids. The brash, vulgar Lolo often came to the aid of Audrey, who was adopted and raised by white parents. (BTW, the mom is played by Bridesmaids co-screenwriter Annie Mumulo.) When Audrey gets sent out by her boss (Veep’s Timothy C. Simons, doing aggressive-ally shtick) to China to close a deal — which could lead to a promotion and moving to L.A., away from her BFF — she brings along the more fluent Lolo to translate. Also tagging along for the ride is Deadeye (comedian/writer Sabrina Wu), Lolo’s awkward, K-pop-loving cousin. When they get there, they meet up with Kat (Everything Everywhere All at Once’s Stephanie Hsu), Audrey’s college roommate and a bonafide soap star.

With masters of sophomoric mischief Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg having her back as producers, Crazy Rich Asians/Raya and the Last Dragon screenwriter Adele Lim uses her debut flick to prove that Asian-Americans can be just as amusingly foul-mouthed and uncouth as the rest of us ugly Americans. Along with Family Guy writers Cherry Chevapravatdumrong and Teresa Hsiao (that should give you an indication of what type of humor we’re dealing with here), Lim puts this quartet swiftly through some entertainingly fucked-up shenanigans, including a brief, coke-fueled incident with an American drug courier (Meredith Hagner) and some rowdy sexytime with a Chinese basketball team (led by former NBA player Baron Davis). But it isn’t all filthy, felonious fun-and-games. These gals also go on a journey to find Audrey’s birth mother, a mission that leads to some surprising (and surprisingly emotional) twists.

The four leads are impressively down for whateva. Park is wonderfully white-bread as the Chinese girl who doesn’t know how to be around her own people. Cola brings a lot of foul-mouthed bluster to her character — she’s like a bolder Awkwafina. Fresh off of gaining a Best Supporting Actress nom for her performance in Once, Hsu excels at being a stuck-up, secretly slutty gal who still rides for her girls. And Wu is a weird delight, ultimately serving as the awkward-but-sentimental glue that holds this crew together.

As predictably farcical (and ultimately heartwarming) as it is, this is basically 92 minutes (THANK YOU FOR THAT!) of Asian-American ladies, both behind and in front of the camera, giving you some lascivious laughs. Despite all the naughty stuff that goes down, Joy Ride reminds us we’re all not that different after all. You might even learn some new shit. It’s more than a comedy — it’s gotdamn essential viewing for those who want to better understand Asian folk.