Spotlight

Spotlight Date: 6-October-02
Spoiler Rating: High

Death to Smoochy (2002)

In Danny DeVito's black comedy "Death to Smoochy," we are treated to an obnoxious, self-righteous loser who is threatened by a revenge-mad moron, pursued by a pack of criminal corporate scumbags, embroiled in a ludicrous relationship with a standard-issue PowerBitch, and befriended by a retarded ex-boxer whose sister is head of the New York branch of the Irish mafia. This uplifting tale includes loads of crude jokes and profanity, methadone clinics, an entire scene founded on cookies shaped like penises, neo-Nazis, corrupt charities, ax murder, midgets, and an interpretive ice show featuring a thunderous operatic crescendo and a large fuchsia rhinoceros whose horn gets blown off by a heroine-addicted sniper. Death to Smoochy" also features the worst performances I have ever seen from Robin Williams, Catherine Keener, and the impossibly talented Edward Norton. It's a ludicrous attempt at ironic humor, a sick joke with no punchline, and an embarrassing waste of talent. To put it simply, this movie is bad.

I can't say I wasn't forewarned. The film was widely panned by critics and completely ignored by moviegoers, but something about the premise intrigued me too much to pass up. Who among us, seeing Norton dressed as the Barney-like Smoochy in the trailer, wasn't amused by the thought of a jealous rival (Williams) trying to kill him? Isn't there some real promise in the thought of a dark, cynical comedy set in the world of saccharine children's shows? Aren't Williams, Norton, and Keener --- all Oscar nominees, mind you --- indicators of potential quality? So where did "Death to Smoochy" go wrong?

Well, DeVito, who directs and stars as a slimy entertainment fixer, surely has an odd sense of humor which may not be tuned to the rest of the world. (I was pretty turned off by his "War of the Roses," too.) He gets the look and feel of "Death to Smoochy" right, though, using bright colors, goofy music, and weird camera angles to create an atmosphere of bizarre, manic unease. Most of the blame for its failure, then, lies with the screenwriter, Adam Resnick. A comedy like this needs to be founded on some basis of normalcy or innocence with which the twisted wackiness is contrasted to comic effect, but there's not a single accessible or moderately believable character in the whole lot. I think that Norton's Sheldon Mopes (aka the rhino Smoochy) was meant to serve as our point of entry into this overlong foray into the Twilight Zone, but I'm not sure. It appeared from the trailer that he was a gentle naif, but in fact he's exactly like one of those aggressively polite Mormons you sometimes meet on the street (only without the "Brother Mopes" name tag). He's an unlikely combination of ambition and simplicity, of a goody two shoes and a loose cannon, a courteous but insistent proselytizer for Jesus, upright living, and health food --- along with getting his due and saving his ass. (What, he can't tolerate capitalism and frosted cereal but is all for unprotected sex and his mafia friends killing off whoever gets in his way?) If anyone could breathe life into such an improbable character, it's Norton, but he falters and comes across as not only preposterous but also stupid, shady, and vaguely repulsive.

While Norton is unbelievable and Keener (as a network executive) is an unfortunate cardboard stereotype, Williams' fallen kiddie show host Rainbow Randolph is marginal and completely unformed. He shows up only sporadically during most of the movie to spew an unfunny stream of angry profanity (before becoming completely different in a single, inexplicable moment toward the end). He is further marginalized by a slew of other baddies menacing Smoochy behind the scenes, rendering him and his anger an empty, worthless presence. I can only guess that the guilty parties thought they were making a film whose hilarity stemmed from the juxtaposition of a gung-ho idealist and a bunch of venal, soulless freaks in a candy-colored land located over the rainbow and just a little to the left. What we got, however, is a mean, messy, rhino-sized pile of doo in which not one person or situation is remotely funny, interesting, or enjoyable. There's no irony when everything is twisted and corrupt, no point in a crazy fantasyland where nobody is a fish out of water, floundering around in confusion and disbelief.

And finally, to add insult to injury, after almost two hours of laboriously creating a tale of cold and vulgar absurdity, "Death to Smoochy" abandons its own vision and becomes a disgusting spectacle of maudlin absurdity instead. Yes, folks, I regret to report that the title is entirely a tease: Smoochy doesn't die (though several other people do, including the one true innocent in the whole film). Love triumphs, friendship blooms, redemption is found. Are they trying to insult us? Do they think it's so clever, to candy coat the end in indulgent self-mockery? What a cop out! I say, if you're going to wallow in a morass of venom, it's the weenie's way out to try to keep your hands clean. Death to Smoochy!

Copyright © 2002 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.