In the insufferable and unwatchable "Old Dogs," John Travolta and Robin Williams play longtime Manhattan business partners who've been best friends since high school. One's a superannuated swinging bachelor (I'll let you guess which); the other's a divorced commitment-phobe who suddenly discovers that he's the father of two fraternal twins from a woman (Kelly Preston) he briefly married, then got an annulment from, seven years earlier. Now that the kids are in his life, Williams is learning what it means to be a daddy - movie-comedy style, that is.
I guess there must be an audience out there for these dumbed-down daddy-day-care scenarios, featuring grown men who are more childish and immature than the kids they're supposed to be raising, but, frankly, I don't get the appeal. Suffice it to say, the script - a gruesome combination of painfully contrived setups, unfunny jokes, teeth-grinding sentimentality and stunningly desperate slapstick routines - feels as if it were written by a not particularly gifted third-grader; the direction is low-grade and cheesy, and the acting consists of little more than nonstop mugging for the camera. It even has the oldest family-comedy standby of them all: a cutesy dog for cutaway reaction shots that are somehow supposed to make the whole thing even more side-splitting and hilarious than it already is. (And, in deference to their careers, we hesitate to even mention that Bernie Mac, Ann-Margret, and Matt Dillon drop in for some ill-advised cameos, which I'm sure they've since come to regret).
This may not be the worst movie ever made by either Travolta or Williams, but it's certainly right down there vying for the title. An embarrassment for all concerned, the pooch included.
I guess there must be an audience out there for these dumbed-down daddy-day-care scenarios, featuring grown men who are more childish and immature than the kids they're supposed to be raising, but, frankly, I don't get the appeal. Suffice it to say, the script - a gruesome combination of painfully contrived setups, unfunny jokes, teeth-grinding sentimentality and stunningly desperate slapstick routines - feels as if it were written by a not particularly gifted third-grader; the direction is low-grade and cheesy, and the acting consists of little more than nonstop mugging for the camera. It even has the oldest family-comedy standby of them all: a cutesy dog for cutaway reaction shots that are somehow supposed to make the whole thing even more side-splitting and hilarious than it already is. (And, in deference to their careers, we hesitate to even mention that Bernie Mac, Ann-Margret, and Matt Dillon drop in for some ill-advised cameos, which I'm sure they've since come to regret).
This may not be the worst movie ever made by either Travolta or Williams, but it's certainly right down there vying for the title. An embarrassment for all concerned, the pooch included.