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The
Adventures of Pluto Nash
Frank puts his feet up for the space-aged spoof 'The Adventures
of Pluto Nash', only to discover this film is about as funny as an
asteroid stuck up one's rectum.
Film
review by Frank Ochieng
Date Released: 08/16/2002
Rated: PG-13 (for violence, sexual humor and language)
Length: 95 minutes
Produced by: Martin Bregman, Michael Bregman and Louis A. Stroller
Directed by: Ron Underwood
Cast: Eddie Murphy, Randy Quaid, Rosario Dawson, Jay Mohr, Joe Pantoliano,
Luis Guzman, Peter Boyle, Burt Young, Pam Grier, John Cleese, James
Rebhorn
Distributor: Warner Bros.
So after over two long years of gathering
dust on the shelves at Warner Bros., someone decided to finally
release on an unsuspecting moviegoing public the wasteful and hideously
monotonous futuristic farce "The Adventures of Pluto Nash"?
Well,
here goes our snappy question of disbelief: Why?
And to make matters worse in addition to force-feeding this interminably
meager and mawkish Eddie Murphy space-aged crime comedy on an unaware
paying audience, the studio purposely didn't show an advance screening
of this unfunny, flatulent flick (thank goodness for small favors)
to critics for fear that a negative word would get out therefore
persuading folks not to view this 95-minute wacky outer space ordeal.
In hindsight, we should actually applaud the film's distributor
for holding back this moon-based misfire in the first place (the
"official" albeit lame reason for "Pluto Nash's"
late arrival: the visual effects weren't up to snuff and too complicated).
Still, the mystifying thing about the atrocity that is "The
Adventures of Pluto Nash" is the puzzling question as to why
this project attracted so many notable names in the first place?
Did someone's Mercedes have to be paid off immediately or something?
Plus, knowing that a dependable director such as Ron Underwood (who
had a good track record with immensely enjoyable fare such as "City
Slickers" and "Tremors" ) helmed this shoddy and
garishly galactic bomb.
Hence, it makes it that more agonizing to fathom. In terms of Murphy's
participation in this sparse and snickering space spoof, who's REALLY
that much surprised about his involvement? After all, Murphy's film
career hasn't exactly been something to behold lately unless he
dons a freakish fat suit while leaning on the continued success
of his ongoing "Nutty Professor" persona.
The painful premise takes place on the moon circa 2087. There,
an ex con/smuggler named Pluto Nash (Murphy), has a smooth nightclub
operation that he proudly has running in an efficient manner.
But then the honeymoon period is soon abruptly interrupted when
a riff raffish character (Joe Pantoliano) and his unruly and odd
sidekick (Victor Varnado) try to strongarm Pluto into turning over
his moneymaking business to a ruthless yet mysterious Mafia moon-goon
type named Rex Crater.
The reclusive Crater, we're told, is a big shot who oversees all
the legalized gambling activities in his section of the solar system.
And as one might expect, saying no to this unseen galaxy-based Godfather
means precariously turning up on the other side of the Milky Way
- with a laser beam tattooed in your skull.
The defiant Pluto ends up refusing an offer he shouldn't have refused.
As a result, Crater and his cronies shoot up Pluto's joint while
forcing the savvy nightclub owner, his robotic bodyguard (Randy
Quaid) and his newly-hired, hot-looking waitress/singer (Rosario
Dawson, "Men In Black II") to run for cover.
Predictably, Pluto Nash and his followers find themselves ducking
and dodging the likes of Crater's entourage as the trio contemplate
tracking down the elusive Mafioso mastermind as a measure of revenge.
In the meanwhile, Pluto and the singer start to develop a romantic
bond throughout the whole chaotic chase from one lunar landscape
to the next.
The screenplay, written by Neil Cuthbert ("Mystery Men",
"Hocus Pocus"), does little to instill any campy imagination
into this relentlessly joyless and wretched fiasco. Overall, the
film incorporates a flagrantly generic and jittery retro-look where
the production design looks as if it were bought wholesale from
a "Lost in Space" auction some time back.
As for the costumes, they aren't all that flashy or impressive
period. In fact, we've seen better "out-of-this-world"
wardrobe on the disco club dance floors during the polyester age
of the seventies. The dialogue is mercilessly lame and childish
with its usual dose of boring and crude body part jokes.
The slapstick, sad to say, is regarded as lethargic thanks to
the woefully uninspired material being put forth. Underwood's direction
of this colossally dumb vehicle is overwhelmingly staggering and
convincingly underdeveloped.
Even the film's star Eddie Murphy seems tied down by the triteness
of this dispiriting dud. There are selective moments where Murphy
is restrained by the goings-on of this cockeyed cosmic comedy and
other instances where the comic actor engages in constantly mugging
for the camera (which is VERY tiring I might add).
As for why Murphy opted to appear in this vacuous vehicle? Who
knows ... maybe there was a chance he could duplicate the sci-fi
sauciness demonstrated by Will Smith in his surprisingly popular
but loopy alien-infested 1997 comedy "Men In Black"? Or
maybe Murphy was simply grateful for showing up on the big screen
where he gets to headline a whole new genre that obviously had all
the steadiness and dependability of an icy rocket launching pad?
I guess another "Doctor Dolittle" film looks mighty good
right about now, huh Eddie?
The supporting cast doesn't exactly escape the scrutiny either.
Quaid's turn as Murphy/Pluto Nash's android protector is utterly
embarrassing and pointless.
Dawson, whose sole yet useful purpose in the film was to provide
that incurable need for posing as hormonal eyecandy bait, doesn't
get to do too much other than gawk at Murphy as if his Pluto Nash
was some precious planetary playboy or something. Both Jay Mohr
(as a Sinatra-type crooner) and John Cleese (doing the mechanical
droll driver bit) mildly come off as amusing to offset the otherwise
stale smirkiness of this debacle.
To see the still delicious-looking Pam Grier as the mother of lunar
lunkhead Nash is a bittersweet feeling; you're glad that she's finding
acting gigs to keep her actively busy but left wondering whether
or not she was that desperate enough financially or artistically
to partake in this spaced-out nonsense?
"The Adventures of Pluto Nash" is an inane, tacky and
stultifying experience for anyone to endure. Gee, talking about
a meteoric miscalculation!
Whether you come away from this laughless and unforgivable exposition
shaking your head, ask yourself one main question: what did you
ever do to deserve this idiotic rocket-sized ruse?
Frank rates this film: * star (out of 4 stars)
Frank Ochieng
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