Geek tragedy

Noel Vera

Dennis Dugan's "The Benchwarmers"--oh hell, who are we kidding? This
is garbage, the people who made this know it's garbage, the
producers even refused to serve this garbage to American critics
(knowing they'll call it garbage), and here it is, warmed-over and
ready for your delectation in Manila theaters. The question isn't
what this is (we know that); the question is--will this go down
without too much pain?

For the first half, surprisingly, yes. Dugan, who has as longer list
of credits as comic actor than he has as comic director, pretty much
knows what makes most people laugh (not such a difficult skill--a
finger twisting in an armpit makes most people laugh); he managed to
hand Adam Sandler an early hit with "Happy Gilmore," mostly
memorable for Carl Weather's heroically good-natured performance as
Sandler's golf coach, and for Bob Barker beating the stuffing out of
Sandler in a knock-down, drawn-out fistfight.

Dugan gives this movie enough secretions and gaseous exhalations
from enough body orifices to satisfy the lowest common denominator,
and for a while, it's mildly diverting--the conceit that Rob
Schneider (who plays Gus, a gardener) is athletic and has a sexy
blonde wife who wants him to impregnate her is worth a few yucks
right there. Jon Heder (as Clark, a teenage virgin) steps straight
out of "Napoleon Dynamite" into this picture with little
modification, and Dugan thinks up of enough things for him to do and
say that we don't get tired of him straight off (smelling someone
break wind, Heder responds "I love beef stew!"). David Spade (as
Richie) phones in his performance as always, but he does have a
scene at a salad bar with a pretty waitress where you actually worry
for a second or two (will she talk to him or call security?). If you
need to know the story, the three are losers who play an impromptu
game of baseball against some Little Leaguers (Dugan--nice trick--
neatly sidesteps the issue of what on earth one near-grown man and
two overgrown boys are doing competing against little kids for
almost the length of the picture). When the movie starts running out
of steam (which is often), Dugan cuts to Howie (Nick Swardson,
easily the funniest thing in the picture), a kind of Charles Crumb
figure unable to face the sun, much less the outside world, without
falling apart in sheer terror.

What raises the movie to a whole different level (about an entire
inch) is Jon Lovitz as Mel, a former geek turned multibillionaire,
sort of a Bill Gates figure only more charismatic. Mel is an
entertaining blend of fanboy geek and Daddy Warbucks cool--he drives
the Batmobile from the 1960s "Batman" TV series (cool) and some
talking car named Kit (not cool); he owns his own Segway (a kind of
two-wheel scooter that takes you anywhere without toppling--cool)
and populates his house with life-sized Star Wars figures (not cool--
couldn't they have gone with "Star Trek?" instead, or better
yet, "Dr. Who?"). He's willing to fund the three players' battle
with different Little League teams to make a point: that geeks and
losers have the right to play baseball, and have fun, and live their
lives without being bullied around, etc, etc. Lovitz plays his
character with an amusing Yoda-like serenity; his casual displays of
absolute power and limitless wealth manage to make the "Star Wars"
paraphernalia seem actually valuable, and even manages to give the
movie something of a point, however cockeyed--yes, boys, if you keep
on with your nerd/geek/loser lifestyle, someday you might become
this rich!

Things start getting soggy when the plot starts to kick in--
something about Gus lying about his loser-geek past--and we're
supposed to start taking the characters seriously. There's a painful
scene of Gus apologizing to a former childhood victim (played by Joe
Gnoffo), who's supposed to be an even worse loser than Howie because
on top of being crazy and confined he's a midget to boot. Which is
about the time the movie gives up on even the pretense of being
funny (something Dugan didn't make the mistake of doing with "Happy
Gilmore") and just apes the ending to Michael Ritchie's "The Bad
News Bears" (1976) without the gritty humor or bleak romanticism--
this is a softer, plusher, kid-friendly version of "Bears," perfect
for the new millennium.

Which is probably beside the point, I suppose--Dugan with Sandler as
producer are out to entertain, not to make art. But there's
entertainment, and then there's entertainment--and "The Bad News
Bears," which this picture has the bad luck to evoke, is a reminder
of how low-down, no-pretense entertainment can actually be done
well, without slop or cartoonishness, and with a genuine edge. "The
Benchwarmers" may ostensibly disdain critical approval, but it
betrays its defiance by revealing an almost desperate need to be
loved, by anyone and everyone. Send this to the showers with the
rest of the losers.

(First published in Businessworld, 6/2/06)

(Comments? Email me at noelbotevera@...)