Director Report Card: Ivan Reitman (2014)

16. Draft Day

“No Strings Attached” was only a minor hit but it was still the biggest movie Ivan Reitman had directed in a while. The movie was also fairly mediocre while still managing to be Reitman’s best film in quite some time. Perhaps thinking he was on something of a comeback, Reitman made his first proper drama, “Draft Day.” Whatever good will his previous success won him was quickly squandered. “Draft Day” barely made a blip at the box office, just barely justifying its budget. The movie came and went at theaters so quickly that, when I looked up Reitman before starting this Director Report Card, I was surprised to see he directed it. Despite the film only being two years old, I had already completely forgotten it existed. I wish I could say “Draft Day” didn’t deserved to be so quickly discarded. However, Reitman’s latest is entirely disposable.

The day of the NFL Draft pick has come. Sonny Weaver, manager of the Cleveland Browns, has a number of difficult choices to make. Nearly everyone in the business agrees that a quarterback named Bo Callahan is the obvious pick. Weaver is being pressured by those around him to choose Callahan. Sonny, however, has his doubts. He favors other potential choices. Meanwhile, Weaver has also discovered that his girlfriend, a co-worker, is pregnant. His mother is preparing the funeral of his late father. Weaver struggles to make the right decision while those around him try to force his hand.

During his forty-year-plus career in the film industry, Ivan Reitman has never directed a straight-forward drama before. He has made plenty of comedies, a horror film, a legal quasi-thriller, some science-fiction mash-ups, and one or two movies that could be located in the action genre. Considering his frequently slap-dash approach to scripting, I wouldn’t expect dramas to appeal much to Reitman. “Draft Day” isn’t only a sports drama but focused on the behind-the-scenes shenanigans of the NFL, in a similar vein as “Moneyball” or “Jerry Maguirre.” Reitman is also Canadian, so I’m surprised he cares about American football at all. The point I’m making is “Draft Day” is a departure for the filmmaker and features few of his cinematic trademarks.

“Draft Day” is an inspirational sports movie but not the kind you’re use to seeing. Instead of focusing on an underdog player or team rising to the challenge and proving themselves, “Draft Day” is about an ethical man struggling to make the right decisions. People want Weaver to choose Callahan for the draft pick, a choice he is uncertain about. Yet the movie isn’t about Sonny’s soul, or people’s lives, or the future of the country. It’s about… Football? The movie tries to emphasize how important the sport is to the city of Cleveland. There are many lingering shots on bottom stickers and excited fans in the stadium stands. Multiple scenes are devoted to talk radio chattering about Ohio and how much football matters. Yet the focus remains on terse men making decisions in boardrooms. “Draft Day” tries to declare that sport team picks matter but it doesn’t convincingly make the case.

I don’t know shit about football. I couldn’t care less about it or any other sport. I get the parts about carrying a ball into a goal but don’t bother explaining yard lines, field goals or penalties to me. Any time I watch a sports-related movie like “Draft Day,” the script has to struggle to get me interested. “Draft Day” is heavily focused on the stats of the game, of which player means more. There’s a lot of chatter about the business of football, about trades and values. None of this means anything to me. “Draft Day” is about a subject I’m already disinclined to care about and focuses on an even more technical side of it. The movie does not make me care.

One could also make the case that “Draft Day” is a nearly two hour long commercial for the National Football League. Instead of making up a football league, the film was made with the direct involvement of America’s biggest sports federation. Actual team names are used. Aside from the Cleveland Browns, the film also directly mentioned the Atlanta Seahawks, the Jacksonville Jaguars, and many others. The NFL has had its share of controversies in recent memory. The long term effects of concussions, and the organizations’ handling of that topic, has made wave. This is aside from the violent, abusive, illegal actions of players, which the NFL is happy to sweep under the rug. “Draft Day” doesn’t reference any of this. The football player Weaver ends up picking talks about how he’s not in any gangs, how he lives cleanly. “Draft Day” represents a sanitized look at the football industry, about good men making hard decisions, and kindly doesn’t mention any of that other shit.

Kevin Costner’s days as a leading man in blockbusters are long behind him. “Draft Day” is exactly the kind of middling, middle-brow fare that Costner stars in these days. The film is in the same forgettable league as “Swing Vote” or “Black or White” or whatever this year’s model is. In other words, Costner is coasting on whatever appeal his white-bread, All-American charm had twenty years ago. In “Draft Day,” Costner spends the entire movie slightly peeved. He wears a facial expression conveying minor annoyance throughout all one hundred and fifty minutes of the movie. Occasionally, the character has outburst, kicking office chairs around, smashing desks, or tossing a computer into a wall. Costner mostly seems bored or agitated.

Playing Costner’s much younger love interest is Jennifer Garner. Like Costner, Garner’s career has seen better days. Once a viable candidate for America’s Sweetheart, Garner’s shots at big budget stardom never took off. This is why she’s in middle-of-the-road stuff like “Draft Day” and a dozen more like it. In “Draft Day,” Garner gets one or two scenes to herself. A notable moment has her pointing out that the top prize for the most macho game in the country is a piece of jewelry. She has a few private scenes with Costner, the two huddling inside a closest. Otherwise, the script doesn’t give Garner much room to create a proper character.

As minor as “Draft Day” is, Reitman continues to pull together a supporting cast full of recognizable names. Denis Leary plays the coach of the Browns. While the PG-13 rating –  appealed down from an R because of one use of “motherfucker” – doesn’t allow Leary to go on one of his trademark profane tirades, he still gets to bring some blustery energy to the part. Frank Langella shows up, playing a villain indistinct from the villain roles he played in Reitman’s “Dave” and “Junior.” That is, a bureaucrat trying to impede the efforts of the moral hero. Langella is not allowed to do much. Somehow, Ellen Burstyn was roped into appearing in this, as Weaver’s disgruntled mother. She does what she can to invest the routine material with some honest emotion but is strangled by the genre conventions the movie must follow. Her climatic heart-felt confession to Costner is eye-roll worthy.

Weirdly, “Draft Day” also packs the supporting cast full of cameos from known actors. Sam Elliott appears in one scene as the coach of a college football, gruffly announcing a few things before disappearing. Terry Crews appears in two scenes as the father of one of the drafted football players. Crews is presumably in the movie as a reference to his real history as an athlete.  His two scenes do not provide much oppretunity for Crews to utilize his considerable charm. (Crews’ seventies equivalent Jim Brown also has a cameo.) Sean Combs, otherwise known by Puff Daddy and a few other aliases, appears as the manager of another ball player. I don’t know why Puffy is in the movie. The bit parts come so fast that I can’t even remember what Rosanna Arquette, Chi McBride, and Tom Welling even did in this thing.

Ivan Reitman’s direction has always been unassuming. He gets the job done, pointing the camera at the actors and the action without drawing too much attention to himself. In his most recent picture, Reitman breaks that trend. “Draft Day” makes gratuitous use of split screens. Actors frequently walk between portions of the screen, dividing the screen further. Since so much of “Draft Day” is devoted to people chatting on the phone, this is a mildly clever way to show two people communicating. A timer counts down throughout the film, leading up the actual draft announcement in the final act. Whenever the film cuts to a new location, the name of the city and the corresponding football team appears on-screen. “Draft Day” is not a good movie but I’m giving Reitman some credit for at least trying to make it interesting to look at.

“Draft Day” breaks another trend that Reitman has utilized in almost every other movie he’s made. There’s a notable lack of pop songs on the soundtrack. Instead, the tense confrontations in boardrooms and offices are backed by John Debney’s score. Debney’s score is earnest and usually overwrought. Trumpets blare in triumph during the big scenes while soft strings play during the small scenes. Many of the sequences emphasizes the movie’s timeline are supported by nervous music, attempting to buff up suspense. Just as Reitman’s films from the late eighties and early nineties have music that immediately mark them as belonging to that decade, “Draft Day’s” score will probably be looked back on as indicative of the middle naughties. (Assuming people will remember this movie at all, which they won't.)

I am not the target audience for “Draft Day.” I don’t care about football, not even a little bit, to the point were I’m mildly hostile to the entire concept. That’s just a result of my life as a nerd and a dork. I’m not sure if people who actually care about football will get anything out of “Draft Day.” The reviews were mixed. The mediocre box office suggest that not many people could be brought to pay cash for “Draft Day.” If Reitman makes another film any time soon, it’s unlikely to be another dramatic experiment. [Grade: D]

This was not the most rewarding Director's Report Card. The shit I went through just so I could talk about the "Ghostbusters" movies... Reitman has made a few memorable movies, mostly with the help of Bill Murray or Arnold Schwarzenegger. Without a strong leading man, it seems his films range from forgettable to awful. It was frequently a struggle to say so much about such dire material. But whatever, it's done now. Reitman mostly works as a producer these days. His upcoming credits include - of course - the new "Ghostbusters" film and the upcoming feature adaptation of "Baywatch." Maybe that's the position the Canadian comedy maker should stay in. Considering the legacy of his few genuine classics, I still expect Reitman to cough out another forgettable flick or two before he officially retires from directing.

Coming up next on Film Thoughts!: New episodes of the Bangers n' Mash Show! New "Why Do I Own This?" and "Memories" columns! Some other stuff! Probably! See you soon!

Director Report Card: Ivan Reitman (2011)

15. No Strings Attached

2011 was the year when Hollywood apparently became aware of the phenomenon of people having on-going sexual relationships without committed romantic feelings. Though hardly a modern trend, “friends with benefits” (or “fuck buddies,” if you’re being crude) suddenly became a buzz word a few years back. This fascination would produce two comedies related to the topic, both being released in the same year. “No Strings Attached” came first, six months before “Friends With Benefits.” Both films manage to be box office hits, with the latter receiving slightly better reviews. “No Strings Attached” was also Ivan Reitman’s first movie in four years and the closest thing the director has had to a comeback in a while.

Emma and Adam first met when they were fourteen years old, when Emma let Adam – heartbroken from his parents’ divorce – finger him. Over the years, the two had a few encounters, at a college party, Emma’s father’s funeral, or out while with friends. The two meet again as young professionals, Adam working in the entertainment industry and Emma working as a nurse. Following a romantic humiliation, Adam seeks out Emma for casual sex. Soon, the two begin a “friends with benefit” arrangement, meeting for sexual encounters when it suits both of them. Despite agreeing that love would never enter the picture, the two inevitably begin to struggle with their feelings for each other.

“Knocked Up” was an important movie for Hollywood, and not just for popularizing the Apatowian man-child premise. That film also proved that you could dress up the tried-and-true romantic-comedy clichés in some raunch, attracting both male and female viewers. “No Strings Attached” does exactly this. Many of the rom-com stereotypes are included. After a light-hearted first hour, a dramatic contrivances pushes the two main characters apart. In this film, it’s a declaration of love, spoiling the titular agreement. In the end, a similarly sincere romantic gesture patches up the hurt hearts. One of the most obnoxious clichés in these types of movies are the leading man’s archenemies, usually a romantic rival for the female lead. In “No Strings Attached,” one of Natalie Portman’s male co-workers takes the time to belittle and insult Ashton Kutcher. The guy is acting like an asshole to a total stranger for no discernible reason. More insultingly, this character never appears again, making the scene a useless addition.

“No Strings Attached” is also a sex comedy. Unlike most examples of that genre, it does not approach the topic of human sexuality with snickers and childish gross-out antics. The sex scenes aren’t exactly realistic. There’s a lot of goofy, semi-naked clowning, including an especially embarrassing “playing doctor” scene or a moment devoted to Kutcher stumbling around in the nude. Despite that, “No Strings Attached” brings an unexpected intimacy to the topic. The love scenes focus on the faces and feelings of those involved as much as their entwining limbs. The sex scenes aren’t exploitative or sleazy but cute and playful. Considering most movies are content to put a cock on-screen and laugh at it, it’s sort of nice to see a comedy be about sex without making sex the central joke.

Ashton Kutcher is a debatable talent. Though he’s made a handful of stabs at respectable acting, Kutcher’s public image seems defined by his dunderhead character on “That ‘70s Show” and his hosting gig on mid-naughties relic “Punk’d.” (Or, worst, as Demi Moore’s boy toy.) In “No Strings Attached,” Kutcher does not expand too far from his established persona. He’s frequently goofy and laid back. The script has him, occasionally, playing light-hearted pranks on other characters. When the dramatic scenes come, Kutcher is not horribly convincing. As a playful comedic lead, he does all right but Ashton never seems confident in his dramatic abilities.

By 2011, Natalie Portman had garnered a reputation for starring in serious dramas like “Black Swan” and “Goya’s Ghost.” Despite having appeared in quite a few comedies, Reitman refused to let Portman improvise in “No Strings Attached.” However, the part allows her to embrace the playful silliness best displayed in previous films like “Garden State.” When leaping around drunkenly or jokingly bantering with Kutcher, Portman shows a great deal of charm. The film also allows Portman to embrace her reputation as a sex symbol. Spending large parts of the movie in various states of undress, Portman happily embraces her sexy side, much to the enjoyment of the audience. As route as the script can be, Portman tearing up during the movie’s serious scenes are effective, if only because of her strengths as a performer.

Probably the biggest benefit towards “No Strings Attached” is that Kutcher and Portman make a pretty damn cute couple. The first time they have sex, the camera focuses on their faces as they position their bodies. There’s an obvious chemistry between them. When the two are cuddling fully clothed or Portman is leaping onto Kutcher’s back, you buy that they have feelings for one another. It makes the inevitable break-up at the start of the third act difficult to believe. Why don’t they just start dating, if the attraction between them is so obvious? This is frustrating for the viewer, that the movie hews so closely to formula. A less conventional script could have built off Portman and Kutcher’s chemistry.

Even with a solid two leads and a better than average script, this is still a late period Ivan Reitman movie. Which means “No Strings Attached” features its share of jokes that fail to land. The biggest miscalculation in the film concerns Adam’s dad, Alvin. A washed-up sitcom start, famous for his catchphrase “Great Scott!,” Alvin spends his middle age in a state of arrested development. He hangs out by a pool in a speedo and smokes weed. A late film flirtation with Purple Drank puts him in the hospital. What pisses Adam off so much is that his girlfriend, who is his own age, leaves him for Alvin. (This reveal causes Adam to punch his own father in the gut.) Kevin Kline plays Alvin. Despite being an actor of considerable charm, Kline plays Alvin as a broad, obnoxious cartoon character. I’m not blaming Kline. Instead, I think the script is to blame, crafting a ridiculous character at odds with the rest of the film.

Kline isn’t the only recognizable name in the supporting cast. Adam’s best friends are played by Jake Johnson and an incredibly sedate Ludacris. Johnson is mildly amusing, while crowing about his two gay dads, but Ludacris comes off as very sleepy. Mindy Kaling, Greta Gerwig, and Guy Branum play Emma’s roommates. I’m not sure why talented performers like Kaling and Gerwig would appear in bit parts in a film like this, though Kaling gets a laugh or two. Lake Bell is another charming, notable presence thrown into a small role, this time as Kutcher’s other potential love interest. Cary Elwes shows up for a glorified cameo as a doctor Emma seems mildly attracted to. His almost unrecognizable under a scraggly beard and contributes almost nothing to the story.

Another unfortunate reoccurring element in Reitman’s later comedies has been some reductive sexual politics. “No Strings Attached” is nowhere near as gross as “My Super Ex-Girlfriend” in this regard. However, Adam’s two male friends still speak in needlessly crude dialogue and refer to women in an aggravatingly bro-ish manner. Perhaps in an effort to appear progressive, the film makes the male lead the emotional one and the female lead the one more interested in sex. Kutcher openly attempts to push the sexual relationship towards a romantic one while Portman only wants to knock boots. But consider this. Portman is who ends up breaking down first, realizing she loves Kutcher. Ultimately, the movie portrays her initial coldness as simply a defense mechanism against the inevitable romance. I’m not one to get hung up on a movie’s politics but I couldn’t help and notice these things.

Like I said, “No Strings Attached” really is a traditional rom-com. I’ve talked plenty about the romantic aspects so what about the comedy? Not satisfied with letting the sexy sex earn the movie an R-rating, the film has to throw in some crude humor. During a montage, we see some of Adam and Emma’s more ribald adventures. Such as her looking at his dick with 3-D glasses, apparently Portman’s sole moment of improvisation. Early scenes devoted to fingering or a pajama party – that’s actually an excuse to dress in skimpy clothing – establishes a crass tone. The “High School Musical”-style show that Adam works as a P.A. on features a male star that has a bad habit of taking pictures of his dick with his cellphone. An especially cringe-worthy gag involves Adam burning Emma a CD comprised of menstruation themed songs. Not many of these jokes get laughs and I’m not sure why they’re in the movie.

Like most of Reitman’s movies, “No Strings Attached” features some on-the-nose musical cues. Time frames are established with obvious song choices like “I Wanna Sex You Up” or “Shake Your Tail Feathers.” A fuckin’ montage is set to Elvis Presley’s “Bossa Nova Baby,” which at least contributes some energy to the sequence. A dance scene features a bizarre acoustic cover of “99 Problems,” which popped up in a few movies around the same time. The Plain White T’s “Rhythm of Love” plays over the end credits, a style of pop-rock I have no tolerance for. John Debney’s score is not especially memorable but is better than it has to be.

For everything entertaining about “No Strings Attached,” there’s another element making me dislike it. Portman and Kutcher’s chemistry, a frank treatment of sexuality, and a relatively likable tone makes the film seem better than it actually is. An otherwise routine script, which bends in some typically unlikable directions, and some off-putting jokes hold the audience back from liking the movie more. Still, considering how disagreeable Reitman’s last two movies were, even a relatively mediocrity like “No Strings Attached” seems better in comparison. [Grade: C+]

Director Report Card: Ivan Reitman (2006)

14. My Super Ex-Girlfriend

The mediocre box office performance of “Evolution” did not destroy Ivan Reitman’s career, even if it arguably should have. The director apparently did not learn many lessons from that film, as his next project was also a high concept special effects comedy. At least “My Super Ex-Girlfriend” wasn’t a blatant rip-off of “Ghostbusters.” From former-“Simpsons” writer and first time screenwriter Don Payne, “My Super Ex-Girlfriend” did marginally better at the box office than Reitman’s previous movie. Quality wise, the two movies suffer from many of the same problems. Both star bored actors, feature lazy and easy jokes, and generate far too few laughs.

New York City is protected by a superheroine named G-Girl, whose powers of flight, super strength, super durability, and laser vision keep the citizens safe. Matt, meanwhile, is a single guy who works for an architecture design firm. A co-worker he obviously has a crush on has a boyfriend, causing Matt to pursue Jeanie instead. Jeanie is eccentric but attractive and seems pretty into him. She, however, has a secret: Jeanie is G-Girl. Though she may be a superhero, Jeanie is also mentally disturbed and emotionally abusive. Matt learns this the hard way when he breaks up with her and G-Girl makes his life a living hell.

In 2006, the modern age of superhero movies was in its early stages. For context, this is the same year “Superman Returns” and “X-Men: The Last Stand” came out. Spider-Man, Fantastic Four and Daredevil had yet to be rebooted while Batman was only on his second film series. The Marvel Cinematic Universe was but a glint in Avi Arad’s eyes. Many of the troupes and formulas we now associate with the superhero genre were only just beginning to collect. So “My Super Ex-Girlfriend” isn’t truly a parody of superhero movies, because that genre was still young. Instead of ramping up the absurdity, the way previous superhero comedies like “Mystery Men” or “The Specials” did, “My Super Ex-Girlfriends” trades in some very dumb comedy clichés.

Dumb comedy clichés which are topped with a dollop of casual sexism. Instead of skewering superhero comics, “My Super Ex-Girlfriend” is a bro-tastic screed that boils down to “Bitches be crazy!” The male protagonists are introduced eyeing women on the subway, reducing each to a sex object. Later in the gym, the sidekick gawks shamelessly at an attractive female. In a bar, he outlines his strategy, of dating a girl until you can have sex with her a few times and then dumping her. (The movie ends with the sidekick successfully bedding the woman he’s been crudely hitting on.) If this character was presented as a boorish asshole, that would be one thing. The writer of clearly agrees with his characters’ assessment. After Matt has sex with G-Girl, she begins to act in extremely disturbing ways. Their sex is painful for him, destroying his bed. She stalks him at work. When Matt makes innocent gestures towards another woman, she freaks out and accuses him of cheating on her. All of this is before the two separate and Jeanie begins to actively abuse Matt, which we’re suppose to find hilarious. In other words, the politics of “My Super Ex-Girlfriend” are reductive at best and disgusting at worst.

Not helping matters is Luke Wilson’s main character. The script frames Matt as an everyman, a generally relaxed nice guy who is agreeable and kind. Except, in truth, he’s really not. After first asking Jeanie out, she says “No.” He keeps asking, which is rude. He does not reject his friend’s gross, meat-headed advice, sometimes even taking it. His playful banter with his cute co-worker involves pulling his shirt up, which is at the very least inappropriate. While Jeanie’s treatment is abusive and psychotic, his response – helping her archenemy in a scheme to de-power her – isn’t much better. Luke Wilson spends the entire movie in various stages of exasperation, huffing with his mouth half-open.

Uma Thurman is a fine actress who has ghastly taste in material. When paired with talented directors like Quentin Tarantino, Ted Demme, or Lars Van Tier, she can give phenomenal performances. When seemingly left to her own devices, she stars in “Batman & Robin,” “Motherhood,” and the version of “The Avengers” with Sean Connery and giant teddy bears. As Jeanie/G-Girl, Thurman does not give a thoughtful or subdued performances. Instead, she screams for the rafters. For what it’s worth, Uma commits fully to the thin material. She beams, growls, throws tantrum, and fumes. It’s not good acting yet you can’t say she doesn’t go for it. Thurman’s total commitment to the script, weak as it is, at least makes it clear that some passion was put into this project.

Anna Farris is another fine actress that is too rarely given an oppretunity to properly show off her abilities. Look no further than "May," for proof of that. Instead, Faris has had to work with what she’s given. Namely, a line of dire comedies such as the “Scary Movies” franchise, “Waiting…,” “Just Friends,” “The Hot Chick,” “The House Bunny,” and her current gig on the sitcom “Mom.” In “My Super Ex-Girlfriend,” Faris plays Hannah, the girl that Matt is obviously going to end up with. Faris brings the same bubbly charm to the part that she always has. The part is very thin, leaving Hannah to fall into Matt’s bed for little reason. Yet Faris gives it her best and that counts for something.

The film’s supporting parts are filled out with other broad performers. Eddie Izzard – another veteran of “The Avengers” that nobody likes! – plays Professor Bedlum, G-Girl’s archenemy. Bedlum is no Tony P. but Izzard does what he can. He gets a few laughs just by deploying some well timed sarcasm. Unfortunately, the character gets a really gross subplot. He was Jeanie’s best friend in high school, alienated from her after she gained superpowers, and has been stalking her ever since. At the end, the two get married. Ew. Wanda Sykes plays Matt’s boss, who gets stuck with an awful running gag about sexual harassment. Rain Wilson plays Matt’s best friend, Vaughn, the one who dispenses all that cringe worthy advice. Wilson can be funny but he gets the worst part in this movie, which only emphasizes his natural oafishness and greasiness.

Jokes in “My Super Ex-Girlfriend” are weak. Despite the PG-13 rating, the movie plays out like a sleazy sex comedy. There are two sequences built around cowgirl sex gone wrong, which the film seems to find hilarious. The super-sex jokes aren’t done. After revealing her secret identity, Thurman bangs Wilson while flying over the city. The entire joke is that he’s terrified and the sequence goes on for five minutes. An especially obnoxious scene has a rouge nuclear missile heading towards Manhattan. Because Jeanie is annoyed with Matt, she petulantly waits until the last minute to intervene. After tossing his car into orbit, G-Girl burns “DICK” onto his forehead. While at an important meeting, she zips in and stripes him nude with her super-speed. (Thankfully, the film narrowly avoids the dead tired “misspeaking in a foreign language” bit.) If you can overlook that a lot of this is abuse – you know, hilarious – it’s still lame, witless gags we’ve seen a hundred times before.

For that matter, “My Super Ex-Girlfriend” has one really great sight gag. After catching Matt in bed with Hannah, G-Girl appears outside the bedroom window. In her hand is a great white shark, which she tosses into the building. While the CGI is pretty soft, that’s a likably absurd concept. The image of the shark awkwardly rampaging through the apartment got a giggle out of me. The marketers of the film recognized this as the movie’s sole good idea, as the scene appeared in all the trailers. Aside from that, it’s hard to find funny bits. Izzard keeps an asteroid inside his fridge, next to a ham. After gaining her ability, Jeanie’s bust line increases, a funny reference to the most common superpower. Aside from that? I’ve got nothing.

Reitman successfully fused special effects and comedy in “Ghostbusters” and less successfully did the same in “Evolution.” “My Super Ex-Girlfriend” with its 30 million dollar budget – small by superhero standards – can’t pull off many impressive effects. G-Girl mostly spins through the air at supersonic speeds, Martian Manhunter style, reduced to an indistinct, CGI blob. Her super-breath abilities are deployed several time, presumably because it’s cheaper than flying. Professor Bedlum does not threaten the city, as his vendetta is entirely personal. The climax has Anna Faris’ character also gaining superhuman abilities, leading to a superpower cat fight. There’s some smashing and trashing but nothing too diverting. Weirdly, the film rarely uses the effects in the name of comedy, the two awkwardly co-existing.

While going through Reitman’s career, the only directorial trademark I’ve really noticed – aside from half-assed screenplays – is his use of pop music. “My Super Ex-Girlfriend” features the most pop songs Reitman has utilized in a while. The film’s theme song, the painfully entitled “No Sleep 2Nite” by Molly McQuinn, has an alright beat and contributes some energy to two sequences. Another scene utilizes a Bootsy Collins-sung cover of Steve Miller’s “The Joker,” which is memorable. The most regrettable musical moments uses “She Hate Me” by Puddle of Mudd, a band most of you had probably forgotten about. Not only is the song obnoxious, it’s also way too on the nose for the scene. Teddy Castellucci’s score is forgettable and leans too hard on goofy melodies.

“My Super Ex-Girlfriend” is not as bad as “Evolution.” It’s simply nearly as bad. The film has about five or six funny moments, which towers over “Evolution’s” one or two. However, neither film has many amusing ideas. Both suffer from relying on middle-of-the-road jokes and gags. The script isn’t much better but the film does have a committed if misguided Uma Thurman and mildly amusing bits from Anna Faris and Eddie Izzard. This is not enough to overcome the gross sexism or the lazy sense of humor. [Grade: D+]

Director Report Card: Ivan Reitman (2001)

13. Evolution

It’s surprising that Ivan Reitman hasn’t tried to re-capture the success of “Ghostbusters” more often. Not only is it the biggest hit of his career, it’s also remains one of the most beloved comedies of all time. If you’re being cynical, it’s the only really good movie the director has ever made. Despite all of this, aside from the immediate sequel, Reitman never attempted to replicate that film’s winning formula. That is until “Evolution” arrived. Originally written as a serious alien invasion horror film by Don Jakoby, when Reitman came onto the project, he converted it into a science fiction farce. The film did not replicate “Ghostbusters’” blockbuster success, only breaking even at the box office. More importantly, it’s also the shittiest movie Reitman had made in decades.

Ira Kane is a former prominent biologist who, following a serious gaff with the military, is now stuck working at a crappy community college. Along with his colleague Harry Block and a would-be fireman named Wayne Grey, Kane makes a startling discovery in the desert. A meteor has brought alien organisms to Earth. Within days, the one-cell organisms have evolved into complex lifeforms. The evolution from plant life to insects to aquatic creatures and beyond happens in hours. Though the military tries to keep a lid on it, only Ira and his friends realize how big of a threat these creatures pose to mankind.

Reitman may have waited years to make a spiritual successor to “Ghostbusters.” But when he did, he was shameless about it. “Evolution” follows three quirky scientists and one blue collar working man. Their expertise come in handy when a bizarre, unexpected threat emerges. Said threat is composed of weird looking monsters and creatures. The government tries to shut our heroes down and nearly succeeds. However, their wit and wackiness perseveres, saving the day. In both films, the gang poses for a TV commercial. In both films, the final form the threat takes is something giant. In both films, the dick head authority figure is bath in an oozy substance after said threat explodes. “Evolution” was even accompanied by a Saturday morning cartoon show and line of toys, making the comparison inescapable. Patterning a movie so closely after one of the most popular comedies ever probably isn’t a great idea. When the final product is as mediocre as “Evolution,” the movie is really not doing itself any favors.

The truth is “Evolution” is startling in its lack of laughs. The movie banks on the cheapest, lamest gags imaginable. There are gags about black guys dying first in horror movies, dumb-ass college fratboys, ambiguities of the word “cell,” and internet porn. The movie thinks an off-key rendition of a popular song classifies as a trailer worthy joke. An extended sequence involves a monster being pulled out of someone’s anus. One moment, that makes Duchovny’s character seem like a total asshole, has him harassing an ex-girlfriend in a dinner. The climax of the movie involves an enormous fart joke. There’s none of the unforgettable one-liners or hilarious sight gags from “Ghostbusters.” “Evolution” instead struggles to get chuckles with broad, incredibly lazy jokes. The film’s complete contempt of the audience is clear, if it thinks shitty gags like that will make us laugh.

Of course, a big reason why “Ghostbusters” was so entertaining was its fantastic cast. At the top of their games, Bill Murray, Dan Akroyd, or Harold Raimis could make most anything funny. “Evolution” doesn’t come close to assembling a primary cast equal to that one. For the most glaring example of how miscalculated “Evolution’s” cast is, look no further than its leading man. David Duchovny plays a snarky college professor, whose smart-ass wit is his biggest weapon. Once again, drawing a comparison between Duchovny’s Ira Kane and Bill Murray’s Peter Venkman is unavoidable. Sadly, David Duchovny is no Bill Murray. He has no investment in his dialogue, unable to disguise how shitty he thinks the script is. He sleepwalks through the scenes, bored and mildly annoyed. The film even hassles Duchovny’s character with a lame redemption arc, trying to atone for past mistakes. Duchovny does not give a compelling performance nor creates a memorable character.

“Evolution” was made during the brief time period when Hollywood was trying to make Sean William Scott a thing. Though Scott would occasionally play a lovable side kick, too many of his performances verge on the loud and dumb. Here, he plays Wayne, a complete buffoon. The character is introduced setting a building on fire and rushing inside to save a doll. After his car is exploded by the meteor, he continues to drive the wreck around. Later, he grunts and grumbles at a party. Scott mugs terribly, desperate to wring anything of interest out of this script. He does not succeed. Not only are the character and performer annoying, Wayne doesn’t even interact with the main cast for long stretches of the movie.

Of all the performers in the film, only Orlando Jones tries to rise above the material. Better known at the time as the “7 Up Yours!” guy, Jones is given some increasingly dire material. His is the anus the mosquito monster is removed from. He is the black guy fearful of dying first in the horror movie. After trying on a sterile containment suit, he dances for no reason.He makes some pretty sexist comments about the film’s female characters. Despite being stuck with some of the dumbest jokes in the movie – which is no small task – Jones does his best to generate actual humor. A brief line about ice cream produce a chuckle. So did some of his more absurd facial expressions. It’s not a lot. For that matter, it’s still pretty bad. But at least Jones is trying to make the best of a lousy situation, instead of just suffering through it in the name of a paycheck.

The cast in “Evolution” is pretty weak sauce but there’s at least one great performer in the movie. Julianne Moore has given some phenomenal performances but she tends to do her worst work in genre films. “Evolution” gives her little to work with, Moore struggling to make something out of a nothing part. Like Emma Thompson in “Junior,” despite her character being an intelligent scientist, she’s still needlessly clumsy. Moore has an uninspired romance with Duchovny’s characters. Despite having nothing in common, the two are tossed together. The film’s attempts at sexual tension are pathetic. A crop of other notable actors appear in the film. Ted Levine does fine as a condescending authority figure. Dan Akyroyd has a mildly entertaining extended cameo as the town’s mayor. Ethan Sluppe is embarrassing as Duchovny’s dumbest student.

“Evolution” is a monster movie and I generally enjoy those, even crappy ones. The creature effects in “Evolution,” supervised by effects veteran Phil Tippet, are generally quite good. Using a clever combination of practical and CGI effects, they are cartoony but in a way that’s likable. The creature designer strived to make truly alien looking monsters and environments. The cavern where the meteor lands is full of a thin mist and strange beings. The quadrupedal creatures that waddles out of a closest has a secondary mouth inside its jaws. The reptilian creature is a cool example of a dragon. The ape-like monsters that appear in the last act are maybe the best creatures in the movie, looking like zombie versions of the apes from “Congo.” Sadly, the giant amoeba that appears at the climax is the least inspired of the film’s creature. The monster effects in “Evolution” are solid and deserved a better movie.

The monsters look cool but the film has no idea how to deploy them. While “Ghostbusters” had moments that were scary or thrilling, in addition to being funny, “Evolution” struggles to get the audience invested. A monster leaping from a lake to attack a man is broadcast too broadly, downplaying the horror of the situation. The dragon grabs a shopper before flying through the mall. Yet the woman never seems to be in danger and the dragon never seems like a real threat. When the zombie-gorillas are leaping around, attacking people, none of the main characters are endangered. Pointedly, most of the monster attacks occur on unimportant, random cast members tossed into the movie. As lacking in laughs as “Evolution” is, it fails to produce any other strong emotion in the audience either.

One of the reasons I hate “Evolution” so much is how many little, dumb things are in the film. The script has this annoying habit of calling its monsters mundane things. A squat, four-legged creature is referred to as a dog, despite not resembling a dog at all. One creature is obviously a dragon. It has green scales, reptilian features, claws, and wings extending from its back. Despite that, the characters keep calling it a “bird.” That’s not a bird, goddamn it. Nobody notices a field full of dead monsters before the main characters do. The organism have a weakness, which the heroes deduce with some extremely shaky science. What is that weakness? Head and Shoulders shampoo. Aside from being disgustingly blatant product placement, it’s also an exceedingly lame attempt at a gag.

One of the reasons “Evolution” has so much trouble generating anything but the fakest of laughs is its soundtrack. John Powell’s score is peppered with ridiculous, clownish sound effects. The aforementioned field of dead monsters could’ve been a startling sight. Instead, the movie’s goofy score prevents any moment from being taken seriously. Reitman continues to utilize pop songs in his movie. Most of the choices are not inspired, including such bro-tastic choices as Buckcherry and Powerman 5000. However, one energetic sequence is set to “Play That Funky Music, White Boy.” It’s just a scene of the cast driving down a road but it’s the only time the movie rises above bored malaise.

I first saw “Evolution” on VHS, rented from our local video store. At the time, I was somewhat hyped, knowing this was another sci-f/horror/comedy from the director of “Ghostbusters.” Even as a kid, I hated the movie. I couldn’t express the reasons why but I was immensely disappointed in what Reitman and his team created. My opinion hasn’t changed very much in the years since. Ivan Reitman has made some kind-of-crappy movies over the years but “Evolution” is, undoubtedly, the kind-of-crappiest. [Grade: D-]

Director Report Card: Ivan Reitman (1998)

12. Six Days Seven Nights

According to Wikipedia, “Six Days Seven Nights” was only a minor hit, making back a little more than its budget. I, however, remember the movie being a much bigger deal. I recall the poster being prominently displayed at our local rental place for quite some time. My mother rented it, bought the VHS, and re-watched the film a number of times. Like seemingly every thing Ivan Reitman has made, the film is very indicative of its time. “Six Days Seven Nights” was made back when Harrison Ford was still a viable sex symbol, when most women probably would’ve been happy to spend a week with him on a desert island. The film was also released before Anne Heche’s very public mental breakdown made her a punchline. Though the film has faded from memory, re-watching it takes me right back to 1998.

Robin Monrue is a successful editor of a fashion magazine. She works too hard but has a devoted boyfriend, Frank. The two fly to a French Polynesian island for a week long vacation, where Frank proposes. Immediately afterwards, Robin receives a phone call, work interrupting her scenic vacation. She must fly away from the island for an important meeting. Quinn, a crude and tough pilot, agrees to take her. In route, a thunderstorm blows in. Lightning strikes the plane, forcing a drastic crash landing. The two are stranded on an empty island, forced to work together to survive. It’s not too long before a romance forms between Robin and Quinn.

I imagine “Six Day Seven Nights” was an easy sell for screenwriter Michael Browning, his first of only three credits. The film mashes up two ever-green genres: The shipwreck survival story and the romantic-comedy. The film cribs generously from “Robinson Crusoe,” the most famous of island survival stories. The female protagonist’s name is a likely reference and pirates randomly appear in the middle of the run time. As for the rom-com elements, “Six Days Seven Nights” follows the standard outline for the genre. A man and a woman meted unexpectedly. At first, they dislike each other. The universe tosses them together and romance quickly blooms between the two. It’s not rocket science.

Considering she’s been languishing in obscurity for years now, it’s hard to believe Anne Heche was ever a bankable movie star. In “Six Days Seven Nights,” Heche sports an unconvincing New York accent. Once you get pass that, Heche gives a reasonably likable performance. She has a winning smile, displaying a decent dose of attitude when trading barbs with Ford or her other co-stars. Once on the island, Heche also shows a willingness to wade through rivers, roll down hills, and sleep on the ground. The only time her performance becomes embarrassing is when the character downs some sleeping pills and begins to act very broad and silly. Still, considering her light presence and girl-next-door beauty, it’s not surprisingly that Heche was once primed to become a major movie star.

If Heche was an up-and-comer at the time, Harrison Ford was a proven superstar. In 1998, he was coming off the success of “Air Force One” and the enormous box office of “The Fugitive” was only a few years back. In “Six Days Seven Nights,” Ford isn’t playing the president or a wrongfully accused man. Instead, he’s a scoundrel, introduced tinkering with an old plane in his underwear or getting a massage from his scantily clad girlfriend. Or drunkenly hitting on Heche at the bar. In other words, the film tries to make Ford as unappealing as possible, despite his obvious charm and rugged handsomeness. Harrison doesn’t stretch his acting abilities much. Mostly, he grins, gripes, struggles in the dirt, and plays hero. It’s fun to watch Harrison Ford do these things, so I’m not complaining. However, this is not the deepest material and does not provide Ford with much more to do.

Even when the story goes to more serious places, “Six Days Seven Nights” is a light-hearted comedy. The film is filled with slapstick comedy, deployed broadly. After crash-landing on the island, Robin accidentally inflates a raft inside the plane wreckage, pushing her face against the window. Later, Heche is frightened by a pig while next to a lake. This leads to a sequence where Ford has to fish a snake out of her shorts. The jokes are hardly cutting edge but, occasionally, “Six Days Seven Nights” got a laugh out of me. After the raft incident, Heche gives a blunt response to Ford’s question. After making a navigational mistake, Ford retreats to a bush, cursing in frustration. Too often though, the film is a little too goofy for its own good. This is best exemplified when Robin’s attempt to signal an airplane has her rolling to the ground, setting a tree on fire.

Even if you didn’t know “Six Days Seven Nights” was a romantic-comedic going in, the film lays down its cards relatively early. When Robin and Quinn met in his airplane, they are already sharing some belligerent sexual tension. Before the plane crashes, they have a conversation laced with innuendo about how men and women's different approach to romance. In the second of the six days, Quinn is commenting on how Robin isn’t his type. All of this is obviously setting up the two falling into each other arms. Before leaping off a cliff, to avoid the pirates, Ford plants a kiss on Heche. After washing up in the surf, the two are rolling around in the sand, making out. The two performers share decent enough chemistry but it’s not quite enough to overcome the routine script. At the end, I was mostly thinking about how doomed this relationship is, as the two characters truly don’t have anything in common.

I’ve criticized the tonal changes in Reitman’s previous films, mostly the shift from madcap comedy to maudlin sentimentality in “Kindergarten Cop” and “Junior.” “Six Days Seven Nights” has some tonal shifts of its own. While rowing off the island, Robin and Quinn spot two boats. Just in time, they realize the boat has been captured by pirates. In some ways, the sudden incorporation of action/adventure elements stick out. The pirates shooting a hostage and tossing him overboard definitely seems out of place. However, the movie still manages to keep things light. A tussle between the heroes and the pirates is fairly farcical, with machine guns tossed into the air and people throw into the sand. There’s an element of adventure inherent to the “stranded on an island” concept, so pirates suddenly appearing isn’t too out of the blue. Even if the movie could’ve handled it better.

While Heche and Ford are falling in love on the island, “Six Days Seven Nights” has a routine subplot involving their other mates. From the moment David Schwimmer’s Frank begins ogling Jacqueline Obradors’ Angelina, you know they’ll end up together. The dramatic irony of the two couples swapping partners is too great to pass up. Schwimmer brings an expected level of anxious energy to Frank. (You do wonder how a sweetheart like Heche could end up with a nervous mess like Schwimmer.) Odradors, who spends the whole movie in not-very-much clothing, gives a Charo-worthy performance. The scene where those two wind up in bed is relatively funny, if extraneous. Among the supporting cast is Alison Janney in a routine part as Robin’s boss, bringing some funny energy to a nothing role. Also watch out for Amy Sadaris and Danny Trejo in tiny roles, back before either became much bigger stars.

The pirate business never entirely solidifies. A much better adventure element is when Ford and Heche throw together a replacement for their downed plane, escaping the island. Here, Reitman’s talent for cutting together a colorful montage is nicely utilized. The flying scenes also allow Harrison Ford to show off his piloting skills, as he does his own flying. “Six Days Seven Nights” has a totally superfluous last act. After escaping the island, Robin attempts to return to her life with Frank. Naturally, this is entirely unnecessary. We knew who she was going to end up with before the movie started. Mostly, this is an unneeded resolution of subplot nobody much cared about.

Ivan Reitman’s movies are usually unremarkable to look at. His strengths as a filmmaker rarely includes note-worthy cinematography. “Six Days Seven Nights” is not shot in an exciting fashion. However, the film does take place in some awfully pretty locations. The movie was shot on the Hawaiian island of Kauai, a place of great natural beauty. The scenic rolling beaches are shown off. A notable sequence takes place among the island’s great green mountains, a gorgeous location. Reitman and his team seemed to understand that the exotic, picturesque location is as much a part of the film’s attraction as its two stars.

With the island setting, “Six Days Seven Nights” has a typically tropical flavored soundtrack. Randy Edelman – trading places with Reitman’s other regular composer, James Newton Howard – makes sure the score has lots of steel drums in the mix. It’s a decent bit of music, if not especially memorable. Also befitting the setting, several reggae songs appear on the soundtrack. The band, Taj Mahal, put in an appearance at a party. I’m not really a fan of the genre but it definitely adds an interesting flavor to the movie.

“Six Days Seven Nights” is a decently entertaining flick. The audience gets a few chuckles, the two lead performers are having fun, and the film floats by quickly. It is not, however, especially memorable. The film is the purest form of popcorn, amusing the viewer before drifting quickly out of your memory. The movie does not distinguish itself among its genre, following most of the expected beats. As lazy afternoon viewing, it does fine. There’s nothing wrong with that but don’t expect the movie to make a very big impression on you. [Grade: C+]

Director Report Card: Ivan Reitman (1997)

11. Fathers’ Day

Ivan Reitman spent the first half of the nineties making one popular comedy after another. Whether or not you’re a fan of the films, “Kindergarten Cop,” “Dave,” and “Junior” all made money. “Fathers’ Day” ended that successful streak. Reviews were largely negative. The movie apparently cost 85 million dollars to make but only grossed 28 million domestically. “Fathers’ Day” should’ve been a sure thing. A remake of a well-liked French film, “Les Comperes,” the project brought together Robin Williams and Billy Crystal, two of the biggest comedy stars of the decade. Crystal’s career would never truly recover. Yet is “Fathers’ Day” really that bad?

Jack is a successful lawyer. Dale is a manic-depressive writer. On the same day, both receive a phone call from Collette, a girl each man was intimate with back in college. Collette separately tells Jack and Dale that they fathered her child, Scott. Scott has recently gone missing, chasing after a girl. At first unaware of the other, Jack and Dale go off looking for their boy. Soon, the two cross paths, each uncertain of who is actually Scott’s father. Misadventures ensue.

Fatherhood is a premise Ivan Reitman has touched on before. His previous film was, after all, “Junior.” Parental anxiety boil inside “Kindergarten Cop” as well. And, least we forget, Peter Venkman learning to become a dad in “Ghostbusters II.” (Related: Ivan Reitman’s son, Jason, would have his biggest hit with “Juno,” another story about impending parenthood.) Parenthood and kids are obviously topics ripe with comedic and dramatic potential. “Fathers’ Day” is not an especially deep movie, mostly using its premise as set-up for lots of wacky shenanigans. However, even a film this thin manages to scrap together some decent pathos, concerning the feelings the men have for their potential son. This is most evident in the last act, when both guys happily accept Scott as their boy.

After many ups and downs in the eighties, the “City Slickers” movies made Billy Crystal a genuine box office draw in the nineties. The archetypal Crystal character is an East Coast mensch who is tossed into some kooky environment. “Fathers’ Day” does not strayed too far from this archetype. Crystal’s Jack is a hot-shot lawyer, who usually has a bead on any given situation. A reoccurring gag has Crystal headbutting people any time a scenario gets too hot. Crystal is amusing, producing chuckles when fumbling through a nutty position and is even better when keeping a cool head in crazier scenes.

Long time Robin Williams fans will be very uncomfortable going into “Fathers’ Day.” Williams’ character is introduced putting a loaded gun in his mouth, preparing to commit suicide. Holy shit, talk about harsher in retrospective. As with Crystal, Williams plays a part he’s accustomed to. Dale has a manic personality, prone to emotional outburst. He cries with little warning. While driving, he slams on the break suddenly due to a serial fear of hitting someone. When totally unleashed, Robin Williams can be intolerable. Some scenes in “Fathers’ Day” pushes Williams’ manic humor too far, such as a montage of him trying on different outfits and imaging his first meeting with his newly discovered son. Yet there’s enough honest heart to Williams’ performance, such as when he tells Crystal how much he needs his son, to keep “Fathers’ Day” from being all hollow shtick.

“Fathers’ Day” was undoubtedly sold on Williams and Crystal being on-screen together. Despite never making a movie together before, Crystal and Williams had worked together many times during the Comic Relief charity specials. So, Billy and Robin have a built-in chemistry. Some of the best scenes in “Fathers’ Day” are devoted to the two performers bouncing off each other. When on a dock, trying to convince the mother of Scott’s girlfriend to help them, Williams pretends to cry while Crystal plays it up. A few minutes later, the men realize they’re talking about the same boy. Their reaction is great. Jack nicely plays off a random gambling fit Dale goes through. Similarly, Jack’s bemused reaction to Dale’s strangled driving gets some okay laughs. The two performers are comfortable together and the audience picks up on that.

As the title indicates, “Fathers’ Day” is not a movie about mothers. Despite that, the script does make room for some female performers. Nastassja Kinski gets the short stick as Collette. She has a handful of scenes, near the beginning and end of the film. Kinski, an incredibly talented performer, doesn’t have much more to do than deliver exposition. Her blatant disinterest in the material is clear on her face. Julia Louis-Dreyfus plays Crystal’s new wife. She too only has a few scenes. However, she has some funny moments with the leading men, being the straight man to their comedic antics. For some reason, Louise-Dreyfus was nominated for a Razzie for this perfectly serviceable, fine performance. Honestly, the best actress in the movie might be Haylie Johnson as Nikki, the brainless girl Scott is chasing. Johnson breathlessly delivers the cruel dialogue she’s given.

Ivan Reitman is usually good at putting together a supporting cast. “Fathers’ Day” does not have his hottest cast but features one or two bright spot. Charlie Hofheimer is fine as Scott, gritting his teeth during the awkward scenes. When given more room by the script, Hofheimer has a decent nervous energy. Bruce Greenwood plays Collette’s husband, Scott’s foster dad. Greenwood, a solid character actor, enlivens what could’ve been an empty role. Charles Rocket has a funny scene as a mechanic, who goes from hostile to frightened of the movie’s heroes. Jared Harris has a tiny role as a cartoonish drug dealer, fuming through a handful of lines. Also, I must mention Mel Gibson’s bizarre cameo as a body piercer. I’m not sure why he’s in the movie but it’s certainly a memorable moment.

“Fathers’ Day” goes for big belly laughs and does get them from time to time. Probably the stand-out moment in the flick occurs when Robin has the unconscious Scott in a hotel shower. While trying to clean the boy’s vomit off his chest, Crystal is on the phone with his wife. Adding to the absurdity is the room service guy coming in at the same time. This scene escalates nicely in silliness. When meeting a rock band, Williams pretends to be a European record executive. Robin Williams was often mocked for his goofy voices but this scene did get laughs out of me, especially everyone’s acceptance of his story. “Fathers’ Day’s” big climax centers around an escalating fist fight at a rock concert, another amusingly silly sequence.

Like many gag comedies, not every joke inside “Fathers’ Day” is successful. Bruce Greenwood ending up inside a Port-a-Potty as it rolls down the hill is a sequence that goes far too long. The film actually returns to it a few times, the audience getting more tired each time. A scene focuses on Robin Williams’ burning his crotch on hot coffee and leaping into a bath. Billy Crystal’s phobia of mimes is a gag that pays off in the limpest way. Williams’ eccentricities are piled a little too high, even if the actor does his best to ground the part. This is best emphasized during the bit where he goes crowd-surfing at a rock concert.

“Fathers’ Day” wouldn’t be a nineties era Ivan Reitman movie without a number of a odd tonal shifts. The subplot about Scott owning money to a pair of drug dealers comes out of nowhere. Occasionally, it threatens to push this zany comedy into a darker direction which is not appreciated at all. “Fathers’ Day” never becomes sappy or maudlin, like “Kindergarten Cop” or “Junior,” which is beneficial to the final project. The reveal at the end, concerning which of the central characters are actually Scott’s father, is lazy screenwriting. Still, “Fathers’ Day” attempts to plop an emotional bow on at the end and that sort of works.

Ivan Reitman’s habit to insert pop songs into his movies actually makes some sense in “Fathers’ Day.” The boy is part of the mid-nineties power-pop/punk scene. The band Sugar Ray, back when they were a slightly edgy rock band instead of a wimpy pop group, are actually reoccurring characters. The Muffs show up on-screen too. Does that justify the director playing “The Impression That I Get” by the Mighty Mighty Bosstones twice? No. Paul McCartney songs, “Young Boy” and “The World Tonight,” play over the opening and closing credits. Like most latter-day McCartney songs, they’re listenable but forgettable. James Newton Howard’s score is better than his previous scores for Reitman. This one features some okay guitar and piano driven melodies.

“Fathers’ Day” is not a comedy classic waiting to be rediscovered. It’s totally minor and relatively forgettable. However, in the moment, it provides some laughs and leaves the audience with a smile. Billy Crystal and Robin Williams are both funny and the script plays to their strengths. That the film would bomb and garner acidic reviews is surprising. This seems like the kind of easy going crowd-pleaser that would’ve done alright at the box office. Go in with low expectations and you might enjoy it. [Grade: B-]

Director Report Card: Ivan Reitman (1994)

10. Junior

I’m sure there was some validity to the idea, initially. “Hey, people liked “Twins” and “Kindergarten Cop!” Let’s get the stars and director back together for one more!” Reasonable enough. Both of Ivan Reitman’s previous collaborations with Arnold Schwarzenegger had easily grasped high concept premises. “Arnold and Danny DeVito are twins!” “Arnold teaches a kindergarten class!” Yet “Junior’s” easily summarized log line is perhaps where the film went wrong. This is a movie about Arnold Schwarzenegger becoming pregnant. And giving birth. To a human child. Somebody, somewhere, should have stepped back and said “Hey, Ivan, I’m not so sure about this one!” If “Junior” had even a third of the charm of either of the other two Schwarzenegger/Reitman joints, maybe the film could overcome that awful premise. This is not the case and “Junior” continues to persists as a baffling experiment in nineties comedy.

Dr. Alexander Hesse and Dr. Larry Arbogast, a geneticist and obstetrician, have created a new drug called “Expectane,” meant to prevent miscarriage and make women more fertile. The trials on chimpanzees have been so successful that even a male monkey became pregnant. Yet the F.D.A. hasn’t approved the drug and Alex and Larry are soon kicked out of their lab. Determined to prove the product works, Hesse becomes his own test subject. Expectane works too well and Alexander becomes pregnant, a human embryo growing inside him. The hormonal effect is such that he bonds with the unborn fetus, determined to carry it to term.

By 1994, Arnold Schwarzenegger had become more than willing to embrace the “Tough Guys in Tutus” subgenre, having pioneered it himself. By that point in his career, subversion of his action hero persona were becoming more common than straight examples. “Junior” extends the Tough Guys in Tutus concept far pass its limited breaking point. The film not only has Arnold doing uncharacteristic things, such as wearing brightly colored shirts or chasing after rugrats, but fully emasculates him. The toughest action star in the world gives birth, an act so unmanly that a man can’t physically do it.

If “Junior” set out to poke fun at Arnold’s image or make a statement about gender roles, none of that is evident in the final film. “Junior” is totally devoid of laughs. The film’s idea of a joke seems to be having Arnold simply do something effeminate. For example, he comments on how sensitive pregnancy has made his nipples. Or how soft his skin suddenly is. His voice softens, he becomes overly attached to the child inside him, and demands Larry’s attention in a cutesy manner. There’s no actual jokes here, just simply written scenarios that anyone could have come up with, stripped of any absurdity or chuckles.

The idea of a man giving birth has been explored in fiction before. Thanks to the internet, we now know that some people have even turned it into a fetish. As any mother can attest too, pregnancy and giving birth is not an easy act. To a man, many aspects of birth seem outright horrifying. Truthfully, only a little tinkering is necessary to transform “Junior” into a horror movie. “Junior” too rarely acknowledges the body horror of this scenario. Arnold has a frankly terrifying nightmare in which he is presented with a child with his screaming, scrunched face. In the last act, Dr. Hesse’s child is tangled inside his small intestine. While that raises a truckload of questions, mostly I wonder how literally gut-splittingly painful that must be. Look, I know “Junior” is a comedy. I don’t expect the film to linger on the extensive changes a male body would have to undergo while pregnant. Yet strictly whimsical probably wasn’t the best choice for this story.

My fandom of Arnold Schwarzenegger has come up many times before. There are few performers I find more fascinating. Look at the 1759 words I wrote about “Twins,” many of them devoted to how much I like Arnold’s performance. The man’s charm knows no limits and can, and has, made the most dire material entertaining. The first act of “Junior’ has Arnold affecting an intentionally flat delivery. He is a strict scientist, not well liked by most of his co-workers. After becoming pregnant, Dr. Hesse’s demeanor changes entirely. He is goofy, moody, and emotional. Much of the comedy is devoted to Schwarzenegger’s idea of a “girly man,” mincing and gripping. Look, Arnold is seemingly incapable of being embarrassed by any material. Even with a script as dismal as “Junior,” he remains committed and upbeat. Yet not even the Austrian Oak’s infinite affability is enough to save “Junior.”

Considering how winning the combination was in “Twins,” re-teaming Schwarzenegger and DeVito must have seemed irresistible. “Junior” does not have DeVito expanding too far pass his established persona. Even as a respected doctor, Danny DeVito still plays a bit of a conman. He swipes a female co-worker's cryonically frozen eggs. He seems to relish presenting a sperm donor with a selection of pornography. For a lengthy portion of the film, DeVito believes his ex-wife has been impregnated by a member of Aerosmith, a relatively absurd subplot. These issues aside, Danny and Arnold still share fantastic chemistry. The script may make it look like they’re playing the weirdest gay couple ever but simple scenes of the two chatting have more charm than anything else in the movie.

Emma Thompson is an extraordinarily talented performer, especially in comedy where her effortless combination of effervescent charm and complete lack of fear goes far. Unfortunately, Thompson is not well utilized in “Junior.” Her character is Arnold’s love interest, a scientist whose egg unknowingly provides the baby Schwarzenegger. Yes, she’s the mother of his child. Instead of giving Thompson’s character a real personality, the script makes her massively clumsy. She’s introduced by riding a giant machine into the lab. Later, she tosses a lobster claw across a sea food restaurant. A make-out session with Arnold results in them tumbling over a couch. It’s extremely broad physical comedy, not becoming of Thompson, and gives her little to work with.

Aside from Arnold and DeVito, Reitman would bring back two other actors he had worked with before for “Junior.” As in “Dave,” Frank Langella plays the bad guy. The two parts are very similar. In both films, Langella plays an authority figure that should be reasonable. Instead, he’s a two-dimensional villain, attempting to foil the heroes’ plan for no discernible reason. Langella doesn’t even have as much to do here as he did in “Dave,” as his part is much smaller. Pamela Reed, last seen as Arnold’s partner in “Kindergarten Cop,” appears here as DeVito’s ex-wife. Both characters have a tendency to over-eat, though her character has the excuse of being pregnant. Reed is actually funny, being one of the film’s few bright spots even if she’s basically reprising her “Kindergarten Cop” role.

Like “Kindergarten Cop,” “Junior” is not satisfied with just being a goofball comedy. Instead, the film has an unsightly maudlin streak. As Dr. Hesse hangs out in a clinic for pregnant women, he sniffs flowers. He writes romantic letters back home to Emma Thompson’s character, telling her how much he loves her. The sequence where the baby is born is not play for utterly absurd comedy, as it should’ve been. Instead, the film attempts to play it straight, Arnold struggling during the birth. When the baby is safely delivered, somehow, he holds his child with pride. It’s astonishing that a movie this dumb, this bizarre, would try to play its central gimmick for anything but bemused laughter.

To its benefit, “Junior” does generate one or two laughs, the thinnest wisps of chuckles. Pamela Reed gets most of these. When she gives birth, she happily declares she needs drugs. The biggest laugh in “Junior” have nothing to do with the material and everything to do with Arnold screaming like a madman, something that is inherently hilarious. Such as when he goes into labor and groans “Oh shit!” When visiting the aforementioned clinic, Schwarzenegger goes in drag and pass himself as a former female Olympiad, forever changed by steroids. These are not big laughs and certainly not sophisticated ones. But in a humor barren landscape like “Junior,” you take what you can get.

The musical score for “Junior” is from James Newton Howard, also returning from “Dave.” Howard’s music is as flowery and overblown as his music for Reitman’s previous film. Once again, the composer manages to capture that unmistakable “nineties comedy” sound. “Junior” is, if you can believe this, an Oscar nominated film. The theme song, “Look What Love Has Done,” snagged a nomination for Best Original Song. Sang by Patty Smyth, who should definitely not be confused with Patti Smith, it’s an incredibly earnest pop-romance number. Considering the movie it’s attached to, the incongruity is staggering. The piano-driven melody and Smyth’s throaty vocals are kind of catchy, even if the song itself is fairly generic and the title sounds like a threat.

Amazingly, “Junior” was financially successfully, grossing 106 million against a 60 million dollar budget. The reviews, however, where much less certain. Some critics, including a surprisingly enthusiastic Roger Ebert, liked the film. Others were baffled. Since then, “Junior” has acquired an ironic cult following for being the most miscalculated of Arnold’s forays into comedy. Even as an enthusiastic fan of Schwarzenegger, very little about “Junior” works. It’s creepy, not cute. Off-putting, not charming. Lacking in laughs, not funny. There are many things I’m willing to watch Arnold Schwarzengger do but give birth to a baby is not one of them. [Grade: D]