WHWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOTEYUNOOAIONGA!!!
Whoa, what’s that wicked sound? That’s Frank Capra, spinning in his grave at such a velocity that he’s about to turn into butter, singing “Look what they’ve done to my film, ma” at the top of his lungs (which I’m sure all will agree is pretty impressive for somebody who has sadly passed on...)
Actually, it’s somewhat amazing that Mr Deeds is heavily based upon Capra’s 1936 classic Mr Deeds Goes to Town, for when you break it up into little pieces, much like a wicked unbuilt Lego set, you’re pretty much left with the constituent bits that make up the Adam Sandler Construction Kit® - or in other words, every single film the guy has ever been in.
Yes, he’s playing that kind of goofy yet somehow endearing doofus he does so well. When asked which actress he’d like to snog in this particular outing, his answer was “I’d like to play wicked tonsil hockey with Winona Ryder” – and so it was done. The script has been twiddled and tweaked so he’s playing the usual dorky type who triumphs over the big evil, in this case a shonky company director, and... need I go on?
Oh alright. To be a tad more specific, Sandler plays Longfellow Deeds, a pizzeria proprietor and wicked wannabe greeting card writer from the hick-ass town of Mandrake Falls. His world goes somewhat topsy-turvy when he’s discovered to be the only surviving relative of media magnate and Richard Branson-alike Preston Blake, who becomes somewhat popsicle-ised atop Mount Everest on one of his age-defying jaunts, leaving Deeds in possession of a $40 billion media empire. Spirited off to New York, he acts all wicked Adam Sandler-like, befriending the common men and befuddling the business types, and soon becomes the target of mass media attention.
Cue somebody named Mac who, judging by his horrific accent, seems to be intended to be Australian, a pull-out-all-stops type of gutter journo hell-bent on slurring the good name of our hero, good Mr Deeds. One of his producers, Babe (Winona), is roped in to get in sweet with Deeds, and needless to say despite her hard-nosed intentions she just ends up falling all wicked in lurve like with the old lunk within days of meeting him, but by this time he knows she’s played him and stuff and it’s all mooshy swelly strings and almost teary looks and heartbreak and returns back home and that kind of wicked stuff, but he has to save the company from the clutches of evil Chuck and the like, you know?
Of course you do. And despite being utterly Sandler-by-numbers, Mr Deeds manages to raise the odd smile or even chuckle, no matter how cynical or hardnosed the viewer may be trying to be. Face it, try seeing sights like John McEnroe egging cars, or John Turturro as a sort of stealth-servant named Emilio with a wicked foot fetish, or even the majestic Steve Buscemi slumming it and taking the piss to the chagrin of all people with bung eyes the world over and try to remain stoic. It can’t be done. That Adam Sandler’s a wicked little bugger. Oh, and he says "wicked" an awful lot.
It’s a modern Columbia release – you know it’s got to be pretty darned good - and it is. Whilst not the most detailed transfer you’re ever going to see, it’s perfectly fine for such fare, with a wicked clean print, wicked colours, wicked blacks, wicked 16:9 enhanced 1.85:1 vision and nothing really in the way of wicked nasties. Wicked!
A wicked Dolby Digital 5.1 mix is provided, and whilst not super-wicked it’s still good enough wicked. Dialogue – even the mumbly bits – is never troublesome to the old earlike things, and it’s all synched wickedly. The surrounds get a semi-wicked workout, whilst the subwoofwoof hardly gets seriously wicked, more subtly wicked on the odd occasion.
Teddy Castellucci’s score is wickedly predictable, and it rubs shoulders with well-wicked soundtrack fodder from the likes of Weezer, Bowie and Travis to less-wicked stuff like Yes, Natalie Imbrooglywoogly and one of U2’s most wicked-crappest songs ever, Sweetest Thing.
