Cast: Eddie Murphy, Jeff Garlin, Steve Zahn, Regina King, Anjelica Huston, Khamani Griffin
Director: Steve Carr
Producers: Matt Berenson, John Davis, Wyck Godfrey
Screenplay: Geoff Rodkey
Cinematography: Steven B. Poster
Music: David Newman
U.S. Distributor: Columbia Pictures
If nothing else, Daddy Day Care proves what a rare find the motion picture Holes is – a family film that's made with every member of the family in mind, not just those still in diapers. This is one of those nearly unwatchable movies that becomes an endurance contest for any thinking adult. The comedy – or what passes for it – consists of lame, predictable jokes that would be rejected by many mediocre sit-coms. (If you chuckle twice, you will have a better time than I did.) The sentimentality, which at times reaches unbearable levels, is saccharine and cloying.
What has happened to Eddie Murphy? The once edgy comedian has, with an efficiency that would impress Robin Williams, turned into the king of soft-peddled pabulum. The man who once made a movie called Raw is now one of the luminaries in the field of entertainment for the under-10 demographic. Not that many years ago, Eddie Murphy's presence in a film heralded humor. Now, it's a reason to cringe. For those who thought he couldn't sink any lower than a couple of Dr. Dolittle movies (not to mention Pluto Nash), here's proof that Murphy has not yet reached rock bottom.
Daddy Day Care has a plot that sounds like it was recycled from a rejected TV show pilot. Charlie (Murphy) and Phil (Jeff Garlin) are downsized ex-advertising agency workers coping with unemployment. For Charlie, that means spending days with his son, Ben (Khamani Griffin), while his wife, Kim (Regina King), brings home the bread. Eventually, Charlie has a brainstorm to start his own day care agency, "Daddy Day Care." Along with Phil and Star Trek fanatic Marvin (Steve Zahn), they establish a clientele of 11 kids – all of whom are hyperactive terrors. The challenge of operating Daddy Day Care is increased when the owner of a local, professional day care center (Anjelica Huston), tries to close down the upstart business. This, of course, makes Charlie, Phil, and Marvin more determined than ever to succeed at their goal of founding a fun and inexpensive place for children to spend the day while their parents are at work.
Since so many American families are familiar with the dual challenges of unemployment and day care, it's a surprise that director Steve Carr and screenwriter Geoff Rodkey couldn't craft a more worthwhile motion picture – something with spirit, spunk, and genuine (as opposed to forced) humor... something that would strike a responsive chord with those millions who are in the same situation as Daddy Day Care's protagonists. Alas, the movie takes the easy and unsatisfying way out. It sacrifices credibility for mush, and allows effective comedy to be replaced by jokes so limp that a laugh track is needed.
Perhaps the single moment that best typifies Daddy Day Care occurs early in the proceedings. During the opening credits, the song "Walking on Sunshine" is briefly interrupted by the sound of Ben urinating in the toilet bowl. Once he has flushed, the song resumes. This is, of course, only the first of many gags that relates to bathroom-oriented bodily functions.
In place of a legitimate storyline, Daddy Day Care relies on the cuteness of its pint-sized stars and the charisma of top-billed Murphy to carry the movie. This is a mistake. By failing to understand when enough is enough, Carr forces us to overdose on adorability. And Murphy comes across as desperate. At this point, one has to question who is more popular, Murphy or his one-time wannabes, Martin Lawrence and Chris Rock? The final third of Daddy Day Care is suffused with so much mawkishness that even the most sentimental viewer will have a hard time swallowing it. In their zeal to provide a positive, life-affirming message, the filmmakers fail to realize that doing so forces them to venture over the line that divides wholesome from inept. It takes a strong stomach to hold down what Daddy Day Care force-feeds its audience.
© 2003 James Berardinelli