Welcome to Parcbench.com!

Be sure to follow us:

   

Member Login

Lost your password? Click here

Not a member yet? Register!

A password will be e-mailed to you.

[close]
Sign up Today!
Get your PARCBENCH Updates by Email!

Email:

“THE SPY NEXT DOOR” (Film Review)

  

No comments yet

Written by Greg Victor on January 18, 2010

spy-next-door-poster* (out of 4)
Director: Brian Levant
Rated: PG (mild violence)

I actually kinda liked this movie the first time I saw it. Of course, back then it starred Vin Diesel and was called “The Pacifier.” This second time, however was a different story. I think. Honestly, there may have been a good 15 minutes of cinematic brilliance somewhere toward the end. I wouldn’t know. Despite the combined comic timing of Jackie Chan, George Lopez, and Billy Ray Cyrus (as CIA agents? Seriously?), I actually fell asleep.

Clearly aimed at family audiences (meaning poor adults who have dragged kids to the movies for a couple hours of babysitting), this film succeeded in making the tots in the row behind me squeal with glee “That was funny.” Unfortunately, what they were referring to were the end credit bloopers and not the previous hour and a half of tedium.

This movie won’t offend anyone. Except, perhaps, fans of film comedy. It’s about Bob Ho (Jackie Chan), a CIA superspy on loan from the Chinese government. Oh yeah, it’s that credible. But wait, there’s more. And less. By day, Ho is a mild-mannered pen importer who happens to be dating the divorced mother of three obnoxious children who lives next door (Amber Valletta). The kids are opposed to the relationship between Ho and their mom, because they consider Ho to be a total bore. Not only that, but he’s a geeky bore. Not the ideal character to center a film around.

He sees his chance babysit the kids as an opportunity to impress them with some watered-down moves from his former glory days. The kids all deserve to be given DVDs of this clunker when it comes out, and as punishment for their brattiness I suggest they be forced to watch it over and over.

Ho thinks his days at the CIA are over, and he is ready to return to China when suddenly they reign him back in. You see, this Chinese/American alliance needs him to help capture some sort of Russian Boris and Natasha couple who were up to no good. (Again, I remind you, I fell asleep). Whatever that was all about, it felt just like the good ol’ days of the Cold War all over again. I was expecting Rocky and Bullwinkle to make a cameo appearance. Alas, they didn’t.

As Ho, Jackie Chan is likeable enough. He’s a 55 year old prankster these days, and it’s clear he’s not afraid of making a fool of himself. But after the first thirty seconds or so that wears off. By the time he utters the clever line “You’re chopping my bust” (instead of “You’re busting my chops”), you start to feel embarrassed for even being at the movie theater… no matter how cold it is outside.

The screenplay took three people to write. Or maybe they were fired and replaced one at a time. It’s hard to tell that there’s even a director at work here, given how lackluster the supposed action shots are. And as for the supporting cast – who knew that George Lopez and Billy Ray Cyrus needed the money this badly?

There is a moral to the story, believe it or not: that families consist of emotional bonds, not blood relations. This definition of family is a favorite of Hollywood writers, but doesn’t really do much damage here. After all, it would have been much easier to indoctrinate unsuspecting children in the audience into believing this if they even knew that Chan was once cool. Even if Hollywood says the kids in this movie can choose who their parents are, they’re still not going to really want to pick Bob Ho. He’s nowhere near as exciting as Mike Brady.

Related Articles

No related photos.

This website uses IntenseDebate comments, but they are not currently loaded because either your browser doesn't support JavaScript, or they didn't load fast enough.

Comments

No Comments

Leave a reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.