Bad Beethoven

 

Beethoven (1992)

As Harvey (Oliver Platt) and Vernon (Stanley Tucci) abduct several dogs from a pet store, a large St. Bernard escapes and hides at the home of the Newtons. The children fall in love with the dog and convince their sourpuss dad, George (Charles Grodin) to keep the animal, which they name Beethoven.

Reluctantly, George warms to Beethoven and eventually risks his own safety to save him from an evil veterinarian, Dr. Herman Varnick (Dean Jones).

What makes this generic kid’s movie interesting is the quality of the people involved with its production.

John Hughes, the master of 1980s teen angst, turned to writing children’s films movies like this in the 1990s, before slowly withdrawing from Hollywood. His mature output was not sophisticated, but infused with a refreshing sense of earnestness.

A master of deadpan exasperation, Charles Grodin’s work in The Heartbreak Kid (1972) was amazing. He was excellent in Heaven Can Wait (1978); and superb in Real Life (1979). He should have become a superstar, but made a few bizarre choices in The Incredible Shrinking Woman (1981) and The Great Muppet Caper (1981). After the unexpected success of Beethoven, Grodin left Hollywood for several years to host a political talk show on CNBC.

Alice Newton was only the second feature film role for Bonnie Hunt. Years before they became famous as Debra Barone and Fox Mulder, Patricia Heaton and David Duchovny played Brad and Brie, a con artist couple here.

Stanley Tucci and Oliver Platt are two of the most respected actors in Hollywood; this film proves even the best have to start somewhere.

To top off the embarrassing amount of talent on display, this was the debut of Joseph Gordon Levitt.

I won’t go out of my way to watch it again, but if catch it on TV, I probably won’t change the channel.

 

 

Bad Santa (2003)

Every year Willie Stokes (Billy Bob Thornton) gets a job as a department store Santa in a different city and robs the shopping mall while his partner, Marcus, poses as his elf.

The movie is an excuse for Thornton to say and do outlandish things.

Thornton’s at his best playing men with little regard for convention. It’s difficult to make audiences relate to a despicable character like Willie Stokes, but because of Thornton’s unique charisma, we do.

Director Terry Zwigoff specializes in films about offbeat characters. This is more mainstream than his documentary about Robert Crumb, but both films are profiles of men whose genius makes them unpalatable to the world at large.

Sadly, this was the last film to feature John Ritter, whose legacy is fixed as Jack Tripper. Ritter wasn’t given a lot of opportunities to prove himself dramatically, but when he did, in movies like Sling Blade (1996), he shined, and he’s good here as Bob Chipeska, the exasperated manager of Stokes’s latest target.

Bernie Mac is excellent as Gin Slagel, the private investigator hired to expose Stokes.

Brett Kelley was surprisingly effective as Thurman, a child Stokes takes under his wing, allowing Thornton to push his grotesque caricature to extreme levels of depravity. Sadly, Kelley’s career never reached these heights again; the role of a wide-eyed innocent is best played by fresh faces.

This schizophrenic movie paints Stokes as the epitome of selfishness in one scene, then attempts to humanize him via his relationship with Thurman in the next. The ending wants to be artfully ambiguous, but winds up a muddled mess, Stokes is redeemed, but still an asshole. The film’s indecisiveness mirrors my own: I can’t recommend it, but I understand why some people will.

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