The undeniably dim jokes fall flat
Welcome to the summer menu. Bad Teacher is a crass, unfunny movie. Note,
please, that I didn't say it is gross, though it is that too; but gross is the
common thread of today's sex comedies, and that isn't what separates it from the
pack.
The reason this is a standalone loser is the smug delusion of the filmmakers
that they are breaking new ground, that their efforts to shock us will be high
comedy. I listened hard and in vain for outbursts of spontaneous laughter -
collective or scattered - and heard almost none. The undeniably dim jokes -
visual and verbal - fall flat and are soaked up not by plot but by dreary
dialogue.
The blame for
all this must go to writers Gene Stupnitsky and Lee Eisenberg for a dismal
script. Given this material, it's hard to blame director Jake Kasdan for the
result when there was nothing he could have done to save the movie from its
writers. In an odd way, the last people to blame are the actors. Who can blame
them for signing on to a buzz filled project with a proven cast and the promise
of first run multiplex distribution?
Consider, if
you're willing, the plot. Elizabeth Halsey (Cameron Diaz) has just retired after
a year of teaching to pay the bills until she marries her Sugar Daddy. After the
Daddy unloads her, she must return to her job and to the search for another man
to support her. Bad premise. The teacher as harridan is not a promising subject
in a culture that respects and trusts the teaching profession deeply.
Halsey's
colleague Amy Squirrel (?) (Lucy Punch), becomes her rival for Scott Delacorte
(Justin Timberlake), the new substitute teacher and heir to a wrist watch
fortune. Punch is inexplicably quirky without any apparent reason for her
strange attitudes or behavior. Justin Timberlake's clueless sub is merely
mind-numbing. Aside from the penniless gym teacher (Jason Segel) who announces
his intention to win the heart of the faculty Jezebel, none of the characters
has an ounce of charm or appeal. Even these proven comic actors can't rescue
this sinking ship.
Cameron Diaz,
she of the wonderfully rubbery face and big smile so suited to comedy, is on
screen nearly full time with a monopoly on the bad dialogue. In full angry mode,
she screams the f-word constantly - at colleagues, parents, students, and
lovers. As we all know, repetition quickly robs that marvelous expression of its
power which should be reserved for use as a verbal stun gun bullet to silence
deserving targets.
In a generous
and merciful gift to the audience, the filmmakers, who probably knew what they
had done, cut things short after a mere 92 minutes. Get ready for next week; the
trailers have promised us Fright Night and Horrible Bosses. Why
does Hollywood assume that everyone who goes to the movies in the summer is a
blockhead?
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