Frank Ochieng is a guest critic who also writes reviews for his own personal website, located here.

To become a Guest Critic for CINEMA 2000, please notify David Keyes.

Review Uploaded
05/09/03

1 hr. 30 mins.
Starring: Eddie Murphy, Jeff Garlin, Anjelica Huston, Steve Zahn, Regina King, Kevin Nealon, Lacey Chabert, Jimmy Bennett, Shane Baumel, Cesar Flores, Elle Fanning, Hailey Johnson, Felix Achille, Khamani Griffin
Directed by: Steve Carr

Rating: *1/2 stars (out of 4 stars)

So what was that old adage in showbiz about working with cute kids and animals en route to fearing the possibilities of being upstaged? Well, at this point it seems that Eddie Murphy tries to rescue his sagging film career by doing just that…appearing on the big screen with rambunctious rugrats but this time to look rather spry and sympathetic in a Mr. Mom “good sport sort of way”. Hence, you have the yuck-it-up antics of Murphy surrounded by tumultuous tykes so how can this formula go wrong? Well, it’s too bad this so-called baby formula is a comedic miscalculation of prolonged poop pranks and male domestic dunderheads trying to fulfill the undefined fatherly roles in the unknown abyss known as child rearing.

In director Steve Carr’s diaper diatribe Daddy Day Care, the slapstick goings-on behind gender switching roles and the hassle of making necessary sacrifices is as original and funny as a fat freckled-face kid with frequent flatulence. Carr’s lame narrative is rowdy yet it never offers anything clever in its slight-handed commentary on raising a family amidst the sketchy economic times for those trying to make ends meet. If anything, Daddy Day Care comes off as a simplistic and gimmicky prop for trashy tots to act wild as a bewildered Murphy and the rest of the adult cast mug their way through the pointless zaniness that ensues. When in doubt, it’s always the safe way to promote the devilish streak of seemingly innocent children at the expense of the exasperated “traditional” breadwinners whose foreign knowledge of fussing over the impressionable kiddies automatically serves as the comeuppance for not knowing how the other half lives.

Carr does maintain a nifty sociological slant in his storyline pertaining to the off-kilter relationship between hapless men and the giddy youngsters they seek to care after even though the premise is hardly what you would call fresh. However, the problem remains that Carr never realizes the potential of a script that could have been scrappy and savvy in concept and lazily lets this juvenile routine ruckus go on in predictable, staid fashion. This flaky family-oriented farce misses the mark completely. Carr’s film cannot decide whether it wants to be outrageous in its silly showcase of serving up the fragile male ego reduced to taking on the cringing responsibilities of housework or focus upon catering to the notion that pint-sized preschoolers make for easy profitable box office laughs. As for Murphy toiling around in a generic kiddie comedy, he certainly knows what genre helps him out the most in terms of cinema respectability therefore knowing where his bread is best buttered (specifically when he starred in the inexplicably popular kid crowd pleaser Dr. Doolittle several years earlier).

Charlie Hinton (Murphy) is a recently unemployed product developmental executive for a major food company that produced, among other things, a disagreeable Veggio-O cereal brand gone totally bust in its creation. Out of work and disillusioned about his financial standing, Charlie must do something to stimulate his bank account. Besides, his four-year old son Ben (Khamani Griffin) is in a rather expensive preschool known as Chapman and if his precious offspring is to remain there and receive the best schooling money can buy then Charlie needs to do something immediately.

Unfortunately, poor Ben must leave Chapman after all and thus forces the desperate issue even more. Charlie’s wife Kim (Regina King) has no choice but to enter the work force and bring in some income until Charlie decides what he needs to do for work. While hanging out at a playground where other “laid off” fathers go to commiserate the collapsed occupations they’ve endured, Charlie is sparked by a spontaneous conversation involving the state of decent childcare in today’s market. Thus, a flash goes off in his head and finally a bright idea has emerged. What would the possibilities be like if he were to run his own daycare center right in the comforts of his own expansive home? After all, Charlie can set his child-watching rates and be there to supervise this whole operation. Plus, the convenience of having his buddy and former co-worker Phil (Jeff Garlin) help out with this project seems almost ideal in its convenience.

As the potty-minded platitudes methodically hit the fan, the inevitable chaos breaks loose and is not surprisingly telegraphed miles ahead of time. The clueless Charlie and his caretaker cohort Phil are taking to the evil depths courtesy of the self-destructing little monsters. The running gag involving grown men unable to discipline and direct the overactive nature of feisty four-year olds is caustically cute after so many minutes of guilty chuckles but the repetitive schtick drags out it welcome after a while. The madcap moments concerning the shameless scenes are painfully arbitrary. The monotony entails having the naughty crumb-crushers saying outlandish things. (Where the heck is Art Linkletter when you really need him?) Also, there are sequences featuring Home Alone-style booby traps that contribute to the nonsensical nuances of the happenings which support the belief that this menacing munchkin-driven movie is nothing but recycled fare meant to quickly appease the candy-craving masses in the disguise of an entertaining delinquent diversion.

Daddy Day Care is a cinema-sized Romper Room reject looking to pine for its hollow hilarity by appealing to the non-judgmental and misplaced quirkiness of the targeted kid-friendly audience. This disposable mockery extols no sense of fun-filled adventure or even bothers to shed a crass light on the rigors of how erratic and vulnerable the family unit really is in today’s unpredictable and unsteady times. Unlike 1983’s comedy hit Mr. Mom, Carr’s flimsy fable isn’t quite able to grasp the underlying psychology or capture the humbling spirit of a proud male’s head-of-the-family livelihood and the preconceived manner in which he provided for his dependents in awkward but loving fashion. Instead, having Murphy and company pander to the ridiculousness of a feeble-minded session of boisterous brats and tepid toilet tidbits that steers this clunky kid concoction is utterly inexcusable. In short, there’s really nothing unconventional or daring about this vacuous vehicle that some will blindly dismiss as “a loony and light-hearted treat for the whole family”!

Again, Murphy will probably pick up brownie points for appearing in a comfortably brainless kiddie comedy that will sidetrack moviegoers from the previous uncreative crap that he’s been associated with as of late. (Remember I Spy, Showtime, and the space-aged debacle The Adventures of Pluto Nash just to refresh your cloudy memories?). The supporting players are universally wasted in this roguish romp as well. Angelica Huston is arbitrarily thrown into the mix as a harried headmistress at the Chapman Preschool where Murphy’s Charlie Hinton is annoyingly invading her territory with his unorthodox upstart business. And Steve Zahn (National Security) plays his usual wacky and weird prototype in yet another lukewarm yahoo yarn as a Star Trek enthusiast named Marvin joining the Hinton household day care as a backup measure. Regina King is radiant as Murphy’s wife Kim but she’s unceremoniously whisked away from the proceedings once she becomes a working mother. Jeff Garlin’s oafish sidekick and partner-in-child-slime Phil is instantly forgettable and attaches him to Murphy’s nutty exploits much like stubborn tissue paper that clings to the bottom of your shoe after departing the rest room.

Daddy Day Care may temporarily restore Eddie Murphy’s box office clout for the time being until he milks another Nutty Professor sequel or chooses to do another juvenile jaunt that will secure his cinematic credibility with the fickle moviegoers. Rest assured that sooner or later the disastrous ditties of nose-picking, foolish physical pratfalls, bathroom-related banalities, and incorrigible clashes between scattershot seniors and their little rascal counterparts will soon become tiresome to the point that Murphy, Carr or even Daddy screenwriter Geoff Rodkey cannot hide behind this thudding theme anymore.

Let’s just say that having the measles is more pleasurable than suffering the inane scrutiny concerning the inconsistent Eddie Murphy and his on-screen cloying prepubescent punishers.