The film skillfully subverts the conventional buddy cop genre, offering a refreshing narrative where the so-called "heroic" officers Highsmith and Danson, portrayed by Samuel L. Jackson and Dwayne Johnson respectively, are celebrated not for their dedication to law enforcement, but for their reckless bravado. Right from the movie’s frenetic opening, a high-speed pursuit through the bustling streets of New York showcases their penchant for mayhem. They apprehend their suspects, yet the collateral damage is disproportionate to the minor nature of the offense. Still, they are idolized, receiving the city's key from the mayor—a scenario that challenges the very notion of heroism and questions the public's perception of valor.

While Highsmith and Danson bask in celebrity-like admiration at the precinct, there's a stark contrast in the dynamics of the police department. Among the various officers, the titular "other guys," Alan Gamble (Will Ferrell) and Terry Hoitz (Mark Wahlberg), stand out, not as partners by choice, but by a twist of circumstance. Gamble, a meticulous forensic accountant, represents reticence and risk-aversion, antithetical to Hoitz’s craving for action, stemming from the monotony of his desk job. Hoitz's frustration is exacerbated by his debacle of shooting Derek Jeter during a baseball game, earning him the derisive moniker “The Yankee Clipper.” The film humorously critiques how superficial labels and past blunders stigmatize individuals, paralleling Gamble's equally unflattering "Paper Bitch" nickname within the force.

The unexpected demise of Highsmith and Danson, during yet another reckless leap from a high-rise, creates a power vacuum. It propels Hoitz and Gamble from the shadows of insignificance into the spotlight. Their elevation is less a testament to their capability than to the sheer lack of viable candidates, challenging traditional narratives of heroism. Hoitz senses an opportunity to step into the role he yearns for—investigating a case beyond Gamble’s fixation on faulty construction scaffolding. As chance would have it, an emergency call jolts them into the field, where reality swiftly shatters Hoitz’s expectations; Gamble's ineptitude leads to a chaotic scene, his Prius crashing inelegantly into chaos, confirming Hoitz's worst fears about his partner’s incompetence.

This haphazard start introduces the film's overarching antagonist, David Ershon, played with whimsical cunning by Steve Coogan. Ershon embodies the archetypal corrupt billionaire, navigating corporate malfeasance through a labyrinth of shady investments. Despite Gamble’s hapless arrest attempt—invalidated by his failure to administer Miranda Rights—fate thrusts Ershon into their custody. Their custody is short-lived as their misadventures lead to Ershon's abduction and the theft of Gamble’s much-abused Prius.

While they wander the city pondering their next steps, the narrative peels back layers of characterization. Gamble's personal life reveals the loving contradiction in the form of his supermodel wife Shelia (Eva Mendes), offering insight into Gamble’s seemingly perplexing attraction to remarkable women. Their domestic interactions provide comedic levity, simultaneously challenging the viewer’s expectations of the "straight-laced" persona.

As their investigation continues, the partners endure a series of comedic missteps that punctuate their search for justice. A farcical restaurant meeting with a past love of Gamble's and a misjudged encounter at Hoitz’s girlfriend’s dance studio further showcase the film's deft use of humor to flesh out its protagonists. Hoitz's persistent incredulity about Gamble’s allure dovetails significantly with the narrative’s exploration of identity and transformation.

The film’s pivotal turn stems from a casual revelation that links the jewelry store heist chased by Highsmith and Danson to Ershon’s broader machinations, unveiling a scheme to target the police pension fund through elaborate financial trickery. This ignites Gamble's obsession, driving a wedge between him and Hoitz, who momentarily finds solace in the predictability of traffic duty. This division foreshadows the quintessential buddy-cop reconciliation, complete with confrontations at Bed, Bath & Beyond that comically undercut traditional police drama with real-world struggles like college tuition burdens.

Culminating in a dramatic confrontation, Gamble and Hoitz disrupt Ershon’s stockholder meeting to avert financial disaster, a climactic assault against the corruption they unwittingly pursued. The chaotic mêlée pits their inadequate skills against seasoned criminals, yet as the duo’s blundering tenacity prevails, Ershon’s web of deceit is exposed, affirming the narrative’s underlying message: heroism can emerge not from system-sanctioned authority, but from dogged, albeit flawed, perseverance.

The film closes with a mise-en-scène adorned in rapid-fire comedy, reconciliations, and vows of dutiful service, juxtaposed against the absurdity of their journey. Highsmith’s closing monologue reiterates the hierarchy of the police force: the renowned, the routine, and inevitably, . This final statement encapsulates the ecosystem within which Gamble and Hoitz operate—an inclusive satire that celebrates imperfection, challenging societal templates of success.

The humorous interweaving of slide-show credits, accompanied by Cee Lo Green’s anthem, underscores the film’s satirical critique of financial inequality and amorality in corporate America, a fitting conclusion to a film that audaciously deconstructs the mythos of the heroic narrative.