Little Fockers (1/10)
by Tony Medley
Run time 93 minutes.
Not for children.
Worse than awful, with a cast
of near-septuagenarian actors, including Barbra Streisand, Robert DeNiro,
Dustin Hoffman, Laura Dern, Harvey Keitel, and Blythe Danner, youngsters
like Owen Wilson and Jessica Alba try to navigate a sophomoric script in
this Ben Stiller attempt at a comedy about sex, although itís ostensibly
about Stillerís relationship with his overbearing father-in-law, DeNiro.
Poor Owen Wilson, stuck in
another dog. Either the guy has terminally poor judgment or little
taste, because he is charming, good looking, and talented, but he keeps
accepting roles in junk like this. Lots of his time onscreen is by an
obvious double doing acrobatics. This is about the quality of something
you might see in a 1920s silent two-reeler.
The die was cast when director
Paul Weitz (replacing Jay Roach, who did the first two) inserted a vomit
scene in the first 15 minutes. I knew it was all downhill from there.
Hoffman is the only one who showed any taste as he didnít want to appear
after he found Roach wasnít directing. He eventually relented and
appeared in what is little more than a cameo. His scenes as a flamenco
dancer are ridiculous.
Stiller loves painful penis
jokes and he has one here, just as he has in previous editions of this
tired series. In this one he thinks itís funny for him to jab DeNiroís
penis with a hypodermic needle as his son watches. In one of the many
vapid attempts at comedy, his son, who looks to be about 3, uses the
word ďvaginaĒ in a complete sentence.
There are more idiotic scenes.
Stiller falls into a 10-foot deep hole landing on his back with no
resulting injuries. Then Alba jumps in on him, 10-feet down, and neither
is the worse for wear. Hereís what happens in real life when someone
falls like that, from LBN Breaking News:
stunt-double for Spiderman fell eight to 10 feet into a pit when a line
holding him apparently snapped. The actor was carried out of the theater
on a stretcher, wearing a neck brace.
Itís irresponsible for
filmmakers to show scenes like these with no physical consequences.
Streisand is apparently
intended to be another Dr. Ruth, but her obsession with sex is just
silly. Maybe Hoffmanís disinclination to participate had something to do
with acting with Barbra. Stillerís children are annoying brats, to say
There are four writing
credits, which is three too many, so clearly there was a lot of trouble
getting this in the can. Weitz seems to be going out of his way to prove
that his About A Boy, one of the best films of 2002, was a fluke.
The only good thing about this
abomination is that it could spell finis to the Focker series.
December 15, 2010