That's My Boy

THAT’S MY BOY (Sean Anders, 2012)

At this point it’s tempting to wonder if Adam Sandler is screwing with us.  He’s made plenty of unfunny, mean-spirited, juvenile films that the majority of critics have thrashed. In a filmography overflowing with bad reviews, his last effort, JACK AND JILL, could be his most panned.  (Although I am a consistent detractor, I actually thought it was halfway decent by his low standards.) With THAT’S MY BOY it’s as though he’s taken up the gauntlet to be as terrible as many think he is.

Like many boys on the cusp of adolescence, seventh grader Donny Berger (Justin Weaver) has a crush on one of his instructors.  He lusts for his young, pretty math teacher Mary McGarricle (Eva Amurri Martino) and goes out of his way to flirt with her. The difference in Donny’s situation is that the educator of his affection is similarly smitten.  Donny and Mary have sex at various spots around the school until they’re discovered in flagrante delicto at a building-wide assembly.

Scoring with the teacher earns the hearty respect and approval of male classmates and faculty members.  It even makes him a national celebrity.  The law, however, takes a different view of the matter.  Mary, who is pregnant with Donny’s son, receives a lengthy prison sentence for the underage affair.  Donny is given full custody and cashes in on his fame by publishing a book and selling the TV movie rights to his story.

The adult Donny (Sandler) is adrift trying to relive his glory years.  He tools around town in a rusty old Fiero with Rush’s starman logo on the hood and wiles away his days drinking, gambling, and hanging out at a strip club.  His son, who he named Han Solo, left home upon turning eighteen and has avoided staying in contact.  

Donny is desperate to end their estrangement when he is informed he owes the IRS $43,000.  The only way he can raise the money quickly enough and avoid jail himself is to arrange a prison reunion with his boy and Mary (Susan Sarandon) for a television talk show.  With a bit of luck he learns that Han Solo is now a hedge fund manager named Todd (Andy Samberg).  He’s at his boss’s oceanfront home on Cape Cod preparing for his wedding to Jamie (Leighton Meester) when Donny crashes the festivities posing as Todd’s best friend.  Rather than being upfront with Todd about his dilemma, a tactic likely doomed to failure, Donny tries to persuade him to visit his mother with a story of her being deathly ill.

There’s no getting around the fact that THAT’S MY BOY is a comedy hinging on how cool and hilarious statutory rape is.  Young Donny is to be admired for fulfilling the schoolboy fantasy that’s the stuff of a Van Halen video.  High five, bro!  The film takes every opportunity to dismiss objections because Donny doesn’t feel he was abused and professes his love for her from 1984 through the present day.  The easy out would have been to make Donny a high school senior and thus minimize the skeeviness of this whole ordeal.  That it didn’t is kind of stunning.  

Obviously there’s a cultural double standard at work here.  If the genders were reversed, the likelihood is virtually nil that this scenario would be played for laughs and winking endorsements. That’s not to suggest the topic is off-limits in comedy but that it would take someone exercising more than locker room outrageousness.  The Farrelly brothers are better attuned to breaking taboos while retaining humanity, and I could envision Lars von Trier trying to pull off something like this with pitch-black humor.

Or maybe John Waters should have been given a swing at THAT’S MY BOY.  The film toys with transgressive humor and celebrating sketchy people on the margins.  It positions Donny as the coolest guy around.  Everyone but super-lame Todd loves his Masshole-accented, raging alcoholic dad.  Good grief, THAT’S MY BOY is somewhat of a comedic redemption for entertainment industry has-beens Vanilla Ice and Todd Bridges, who turn in surprisingly funny supporting performances.  

Of course, Sandler isn’t bold enough to let his character and the film be as unrepentantly nasty as they want to be.  How could he allow it when THAT’S MY BOY gives in to his sickly sweet sentimental streak and testifies to how awesome he is?  THAT’S MY BOY amplifies the raunch in Sandler’s usual routine, and the misogyny is as pronounced as ever in his films.  (Give credit to Meester for going above and beyond the call of duty in a monstrously written role.)  It just doesn’t have the conviction to own up to its ugliness without ample reminders that its star is a misunderstood sweetheart.

Director Sean Anders brings a level of formal competence that Sandler’s Happy Madison productions often lack.  The comedian seems more energized on screen this time around.  Chances are THAT’S MY BOY isn’t a contemptuous stunt to see what Sandler can get away with and what audiences will accept; it just seems like one.

Grade: D-  

The Roommate

THE ROOMMATE (Christian E. Christiansen, 2011)

In THE ROOMMATE Iowa native Sara Matthews (Minka Kelly) arrives in Los Angeles ready to study fashion design and find a more exciting life than the one she left behind in Des Moines. Her first night on campus she makes some friends and meets Stephen (Cam Gigandet), a cute guy who plays in a band. Everything in her new surroundings is looking up, even when it comes to the uncertainty about who she’ll be sharing a dorm room with.

Her roommate Rebecca (Leighton Meester) seems nice enough, and the two of them cement their friendship through interests in clothes and art. Rebecca does tend to be clingy and overprotective of her new friend, but her heart seems to be in the right place. As time goes by, though, Rebecca’s attachment to Sara begins to look more sinister.

Most college students don’t know the people they are assigned to live with as freshmen, so the potential exists for being paired with someone who may be weird or unstable. THE ROOMMATE has the seed of a promising thriller in its premise yet never taps into the anxiety of discovering that the person designated to share your space makes you uncomfortable.

The film’s primary mistake is in giving Sara far too much freedom and alternative living arrangements if things sour between her and Rebecca. Rather than experiencing the culture clash of the heartland versus L.A. and not knowing anyone in her new home, Sara takes like a fish to water to the big city and can move in with a boyfriend or a fashion designer friend with an empty condo if the dormitory isn’t hospitable.

If THE ROOMMATE is to nurture any fear, it has to make Sara feel isolated and alone, not only so she turns to Rebecca for support but also so she feels like she lacks options when her roommate freaks her out. Clearly the outgoing and popular Sara never is aware of such loneliness or doubt, and her experiences never feel like those of a typical college freshman, even when accounting for the movie universe. She might have well met Rebecca via Craigslist.

THE ROOMMATE further cuts all tension with performances that are pretty terrible across the board. Both Kelly and Meester play their roles at surface level, resulting in the former coming off as exceptionally dumb and the latter as self-evidently out of her mind.

THE ROOMMATE is little more than SINGLE WHITE FEMALE: THE COLLEGE YEARS, so nuance isn’t exactly expected from this pulpy story. Still, even when aiming for trashy fun, the plot ought to be invested with some gravity and firmer commitment to the core idea of a disturbed young woman obsessed with her roommate. The film flits around its concept and doesn’t seem awfully interested in it. THE ROOMMATE is easy to watch garbage worth a few derisive laughs and little more.

Grade: D

Country Strong

COUNTRY STRONG (Shana Feste, 2010)

In COUNTRY STRONG country music star Kelly Canter (Gwyneth Paltrow) gets yanked early from her rehab facility and put back on the road to perform a trio of comeback concerts across Texas. Kelly’s drunken antics on a Dallas stage resulted in a public relations fiasco, not the least of which is because the pregnant singer lost her baby in the incident.

Her husband-manager James (Tim McGraw) is eager to get Kelly back in front of her fans and push aside the tabloid covers. Joining her on the road are up-and-coming singer-songwriter Beau Hutton (Garrett Hedlund), a rehab worker Kelly became familiar with, and precocious beauty queen Chiles Stanton (Leighton Meester).

COUNTRY STRONG is essentially a TNN or CMT original production with a bigger star than would appear in a TV movie. With her regal bearing, Paltrow might seem miscast, but since Kelly is more countrypolitan than down home, she acquits herself well enough in the thinly conceived role.

Even with Paltrow headlining as a Shania Twain-type superstar, writer-director Shana Feste seems uncertain just exactly who the film is about. Kelly influences much of what develops, yet she’s off screen for long stretches and incidental to the major thread regarding Beau and Chiles’ complicated but thoroughly uninteresting relationship.

Is COUNTRY STRONG a cautionary tale about the burdens of Kelly’s fame? Is it a catty backstage drama about the rivalry between a potentially falling and rising star? Is it merely a glimpse at the inner workings of the industry from the perspective of newcomers Beau and Chiles? Like an electronic gadget that can perform multiple tasks but none of them well, COUNTRY STRONG attempts to address a variety of pitfalls in the entertainment business but doesn’t deal with any of them satisfactorily. Feste needed to make a choice rather than cramming three movies into one.

With so many storylines battling for supremacy, COUNTRY STRONG never conveys who these people are and is often inconsistent in portraying them. Kelly speaks of how love and fame are incompatible, yet the film does little more than give glancing acknowledgement of the necessity of placing publicity above personal well-being. Beau is supposed to be a rebel with artistic integrity, but he is easily and willingly coopted by the machine. Chiles is established as an ambitious careerist, yet she’s far too passive and uncalculating in chasing the golden ring.

Among its muddled subplots COUNTRY STRONG credibly features a lot of music. Since none of the actors seem destined for the Grand Ole Opry, it doesn't hurt that they are essentially performing pop with pedal steel guitar than being called on to pass as hardcore country and western artists. Adopting a twang and putting on the right clothes help them look and sound the part, but without a more focused screenplay better grounded in the industry, they're really doing nothing more than playing dress up.

Grade: C-