This is not a typical movie for me, as you will guess if you've read a few of my previous reviews. In fact, you might wonder, what the hell are you doing watching this mainstream high-concept adolescent puffery, Mr. Pretentious? Sick and lazy and it happened to be on TV, that's why. And every once in a while, ya gotta sort of clear the palate, as the saying goes; like, every once in while I have to drink a crappy American lager in between all the fancy Belgian ale I drink, just to be reminded...
Of how bad it gets. I didn't laugh one time during this piece of garbage; in fact, I don't think I cracked a smile once. I didn't expect to like it that much, but it managed to fall below even my very low expectations; some of it may just be a matter of taste, and I never liked Rob Schneider, never liked him very much on SNL and haven't ever been tempted to watch any of his other movies.
Schneider plays the title character, whose name seems chosen to evoke "Ace Ventura" and also to rhyme with "gigolo." That's a problem right away: unless I missed something, the name is never explained; who the hell is named "Deuce", and have you ever seen the last name "Bigalow"? This might seem nitpicking, except that this attempt at comedy betrays at every turn one of the cardinal rules of the genre: give the audience something and someone to identify with. It's hard to think of any successful comedies that don't have at least one "everyman" and at least a couple of believable set pieces for anarchy and comedic distractions to revolve around. This film has none of that; every character from Deuce down to the most minor, and nearly every scene seems to exist outside of reality as well. The most extreme example is probably that of William Forsythe's cop character who pulls out his penis for no plausible reason every time he runs into Deuce.
The "plot" certainly doesn't help matters; loser aquarium cleaner Deuce plays "man whore" for three weeks to raise money to clean up super-gigolo Antoine's fab seaside pad after Deuce accidentally messes it up while goofing around despite Antoine's repeated admonitions of painful death should the place not look perfect on his return (Deuce was supposed to look after it). He goes out with a succession of loser women who all for some reason end up liking him, raises money last minute, keeps from going to jail when we find out that he didn't actually f&&k any of these women (and this is one of the stupidest plot points in the movie...it comes out of left field and just serves to try to make us like the guy when there has been no reason to at all up to this point). Oh, and of course he falls in love with, and attains the least-deformed, most beautiful of his "Jills." The humor is uniformly sub-sophomoric and offensive; the film is filled with an array of disabled and ethnic characters who are entirely defined by their stereotypes and who never become "people" despite Deuce's apparent inner sweetness and attempts to make friends with them. The word "manwhore" seems designed for a big laugh every time it is spoken...but after twenty times, it's pretty damn old.
This is clearly not a film designed for me, though I question the taste of ANYONE who claims to like it; another proof if one were needed that the adolescent/teen-oriented gross-out comedy is the most pathetic example we have of the denigration of commercial American film.
Of how bad it gets. I didn't laugh one time during this piece of garbage; in fact, I don't think I cracked a smile once. I didn't expect to like it that much, but it managed to fall below even my very low expectations; some of it may just be a matter of taste, and I never liked Rob Schneider, never liked him very much on SNL and haven't ever been tempted to watch any of his other movies.
Schneider plays the title character, whose name seems chosen to evoke "Ace Ventura" and also to rhyme with "gigolo." That's a problem right away: unless I missed something, the name is never explained; who the hell is named "Deuce", and have you ever seen the last name "Bigalow"? This might seem nitpicking, except that this attempt at comedy betrays at every turn one of the cardinal rules of the genre: give the audience something and someone to identify with. It's hard to think of any successful comedies that don't have at least one "everyman" and at least a couple of believable set pieces for anarchy and comedic distractions to revolve around. This film has none of that; every character from Deuce down to the most minor, and nearly every scene seems to exist outside of reality as well. The most extreme example is probably that of William Forsythe's cop character who pulls out his penis for no plausible reason every time he runs into Deuce.
The "plot" certainly doesn't help matters; loser aquarium cleaner Deuce plays "man whore" for three weeks to raise money to clean up super-gigolo Antoine's fab seaside pad after Deuce accidentally messes it up while goofing around despite Antoine's repeated admonitions of painful death should the place not look perfect on his return (Deuce was supposed to look after it). He goes out with a succession of loser women who all for some reason end up liking him, raises money last minute, keeps from going to jail when we find out that he didn't actually f&&k any of these women (and this is one of the stupidest plot points in the movie...it comes out of left field and just serves to try to make us like the guy when there has been no reason to at all up to this point). Oh, and of course he falls in love with, and attains the least-deformed, most beautiful of his "Jills." The humor is uniformly sub-sophomoric and offensive; the film is filled with an array of disabled and ethnic characters who are entirely defined by their stereotypes and who never become "people" despite Deuce's apparent inner sweetness and attempts to make friends with them. The word "manwhore" seems designed for a big laugh every time it is spoken...but after twenty times, it's pretty damn old.
This is clearly not a film designed for me, though I question the taste of ANYONE who claims to like it; another proof if one were needed that the adolescent/teen-oriented gross-out comedy is the most pathetic example we have of the denigration of commercial American film.