MOVIE REVIEW: ‘Dickie Roberts’ not a star
Grade: C-
I hate to admit it, but there’s something oddly satisfying about watching a tattooed Webster beating the living snot out of David Spade in a boxing ring on the big screen.
After watching “Dickie Roberts: Former Child Star,” I wasn’t quite sure what to say. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but it still had serious problems. And in a way, it really creeped me out.
“Dickie” suffers from the same problem plaguing many Hollywood films these days: trying to appeal to every audience, and ultimately not appealing to any.
It starts off as a satirical look at the lives of former child actors who apparently all play poker together later in life. This premise is fine, but there’s really something unnerving about seeing Greg Brady, Screech, Corey Feldman, and one of the Partridge kids sitting at the same poker table. (Actually, what’s really creepy is how well Spade, who’s supposed to be playing a fictional child star, fits in with the group. It’s almost eerily prophetic.)
At this point “Dickie” feels like it’s going to be another “Joe Dirt” or “Tommy Boy.” But then the film decides it wants to be family fare. In order to do some hands-on study for a comeback film role, Spade takes up with a “typical suburban family unit” in order to research what real childhood is like. The experience is replete with all kinds of sappy, cutesy moments, befitting the worst of ABC’s TGIF fare, but Spade and company also manage to squeeze in enough vulgar gags to make moms and dads wish they hadn’t brought the kids after all.
Hollywood should heed the lesson Seinfeld taught us on television years ago. In satirical comedies such as this, the characters aren’t supposed to learn anything. It’s not supposed to be touching. Spade’s character lives in shmuck-world, and there he should stay.
“Dickie” has some funny bits. The beginning and end are done documentary style, reminiscent of Woody Allen’s “Take the Money and Run,” (bonus points to anyone who’s seen that one) and some of Spade’s jokes aren’t that bad. It’s pretty much one of those movies you either see at the dollar theater on a Friday when you’re hard up for a date or one that you rent when … you’re hard up for a date.
The closing credits also feature a fascinating/unsettling finale. All your favorite child stars singing “We Are the World” in a recording studio.
If you’re wondering what Corey Haim looks like today or what it would feel like to hear Marcia Brady drop the F-bomb, then here’s your big chance.
As for me, I could have passed.
Josh Terry is a graduate student in the American studies program. Comments can be sent to jterry@english.usu.edu.