The most astonishing thing about Daddy Day Care, a comedy that would have to work harder even to justify the appellation uninspired, is that a kick in the groin is now a joke for toddlers. They are both the target audience and the co-stars of this Eddie Murphy vehicle -- more of a Big Wheel, really.
In the movie, intended for those who take their apple juice in sipping cups, Murphy plays an out-of-work marketing executive with no real interest in children except for his son. He decides to open a day care center with Phil (Jeff Garlin), his pal and equally fired colleague, who's a little afraid of his own son. You can't get more high-concept, or less plotted, than this, and Daddy Day Care is proof. It's a series of trailers for Nickelodeon, which mostly feature Garlin being attacked by something angry, either kids or bees, and probably in the sequel, kids of bees.
PHOTO: BVI
The extremely flimsy connective tissue is Murphy, who barely bothers to do takes; he'll raise an eyebrow here and there, but he mostly uses a voice so smooth and warm you could pour it over pancakes. And in this context the very young audience is so primed to react to him as Eddie Murphy that it's surprising that the children in the cast don't call him Eddie. He can get away with this because he knows the movie will do most of the work for him; he's Beverly Hills Pop.
His wife (Regina King) smiles and shakes her head when he says he'll use their home as a day care headquarters. Maybe her secret is that she wants to redecorate, since any mom knows that a pack of minimally supervised 4-year-olds will turn her furnishings into kindling.
There is so much more to be done with this idea that the film could stand to be remade. Daddy Day Care is nearly a remake of Mr. Mom, although at least here the star isn't frightened of his kids. Instead it's another cliche: before losing his job, Charlie (Murphy) is so strung out on its demands that he doesn't make time for his shy, quiet little boy, Ben, who clearly adores him.
What's also revelatory about Murphy is how relaxed he is with children; Charlie's relationship with his son has a natural ease. (Five years ago, just before the release of Dr. Doolittle, who'd have thought Murphy would become someone he had once made fun of -- Bill Cosby.)
And little Ben (Khamani Griffin) is a cutie pie with suffering dimples, enormous dark eyes and lashes so long and minklike that Jennifer Lopez would skin him alive for them. The director, Steve Carr, uses Griffin as nap time for the movie, quieting the hysteria the other wild kids bring whenever they show up.
Anjelica Huston is the competition, the proprietor of the Chapman Academy, a rigid, snooty child care institution and boarding school. Her name is Miss Harridan, since Miss Broom Hilda was apparently unavailable for legal reasons, and Phil refers to her place as "the Marine Corps of day care." Garlin's wry, slow delivery puts a bit of extra English in the picture's few good lines, as does his demeanor. He's too big a guy to work himself into frenzied exasperation; frustration comes to him on his own schedule.
And when Steve Zahn shows up as an old work buddy who pops in to help out, Daddy Day Care is almost on the verge of generating chemistry among the very able comic talents of these three men. The air crackles around them, though the expectation dissipates very quickly.
Since that convergence doesn't happen, anyone over 20 -- including those working at the theater -- will be left to reflect on tangential things: for example, that Lacey Chabert, Mississippi girl and runt of the Family of Five litter, has grown up into a good little actress. She manages to play Miss Harridan's assistant without bursting into giggles when she calls her boss by name. Or that Laura Kightlinger, as Phil's wife, shows an almost mystical patience, given that she has even less to do than King or Chabert.
Most intriguing -- well, when speaking about Daddy Day Care, anyway -- is that the Ramones' song I Wanna Be Sedated and The Message by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five can now be used in children's movies. As Murphy slogs through the film, a line from The Message may be bouncing around in his brain: "You got to have a con in this land of milk and honey."
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