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NewsDay, NY
July 22 2005
'Bad News Bears'
It's 'Bad News,' all right -- Billy Bob swings for the fences, but
his team strikes out
BY JAN STUART
STAFF WRITER
A trio of good-time hyenas seated behind me at "Bad News Bears"
started howling uncontrollably at the first sight of Billy Bob
Thornton, before he had even uttered a word. True, the spectacle of
Thornton leading rats into a kitchen like some dyspeptic Pied Piper
showed promise. But the gleesome threesome had clearly shifted their
expectations to automatic pilot, expressing a craven desire that the
star would talk dirty for them.
They got their wish, in spades, although the precise content of
Thornton's expletives was not always decipherable through the din
from behind. Not that it mattered. Since the surprise success of "Bad
Santa," in which a foul-mouthed Thornton wantonly besmirched a
beloved Christmas icon, it seems as if a bad Billy Bob is far more
marketable than a lovable Billy Bob ("Sling Blade"), a dour Billy Bob
("The Man Who Wasn't There") or even a naked Billy Bob ("Monster's
Ball").
Now, if one were to surround Thornton's role model of depravity with
a pint-sized pack of bad Billy Bobs, you'd have a monster hit, yes?
So, "Bad Santa" co-writers Glenn Ficarra and John Requa were
recruited to retool the 1976 Walter Matthau vehicle "The Bad News
Bears" to Thornton's snarling je ne sais quoi. And "The School of
Rock's" Richard Linklater was tapped to give it that anti-"Goodbye,
Mr. Chips" edge.
"Bad News Bears" is a monster all right, one that strikes fear in the
hearts of moviegoers who prize taste and novelty.
The Helen Keller and cripple wisecracks abound in this rabidly
politically incorrect remake, which strains to point up that kids are
only as sexist, racist and confrontational as the adults who raise
them. Thornton plays Morris Buttermaker, a drunken
ex-baseball-pro-turned-rodent-exterminator who is shanghaied into
coaching a group of youth baseball reprobates. Morris' dirty dozen
are the embodiment of motley, including a fatty, a ruffian, a wiz-kid
Armenian and a black kid who lionizes white players. There is also a
self-deprecating paraplegic, a character that suddenly seems dated in
a summer in which "Murderball" dazzles with wheelchair pride.
Buttermaker's initial strategy is to finagle his gang into killing
his rats and mixing his martinis. When that fails, he recruits a
slacker slugger and an ex-girlfriend's 12-year-old daughter, an ace
pitcher whose youth and promise only feeds the inner-failure in him.
Thornton can always be counted on to ferret out hidden possibilities
in skin-deep characters, and it is apparent from his rangy
performance that he has invested a great deal of thought and empathy
in his dissolute Buttermaker. But he is constantly fighting against
the puerile impulses of a script that reduces the likes of Marcia Gay
Harden (pretentious baseball mom) and Greg Kinnear (alpha-male coach)
to shrill caricature.
Despite his "School of Rock" credentials, Linklater is not the man
for this job: His instinctive attempt to humanize this strident
collection of characters only flattens out the film. In a summer of
movies that have been particularly tough on children, "Bad News
Bears" may be the unkindest cut of them all. Even the most
potty-mouthed in the audience may feel inclined to rush back to the
quiet sanctuary of their bathroom and wash their ears out with soap.
July 22 2005
'Bad News Bears'
It's 'Bad News,' all right -- Billy Bob swings for the fences, but
his team strikes out
BY JAN STUART
STAFF WRITER
A trio of good-time hyenas seated behind me at "Bad News Bears"
started howling uncontrollably at the first sight of Billy Bob
Thornton, before he had even uttered a word. True, the spectacle of
Thornton leading rats into a kitchen like some dyspeptic Pied Piper
showed promise. But the gleesome threesome had clearly shifted their
expectations to automatic pilot, expressing a craven desire that the
star would talk dirty for them.
They got their wish, in spades, although the precise content of
Thornton's expletives was not always decipherable through the din
from behind. Not that it mattered. Since the surprise success of "Bad
Santa," in which a foul-mouthed Thornton wantonly besmirched a
beloved Christmas icon, it seems as if a bad Billy Bob is far more
marketable than a lovable Billy Bob ("Sling Blade"), a dour Billy Bob
("The Man Who Wasn't There") or even a naked Billy Bob ("Monster's
Ball").
Now, if one were to surround Thornton's role model of depravity with
a pint-sized pack of bad Billy Bobs, you'd have a monster hit, yes?
So, "Bad Santa" co-writers Glenn Ficarra and John Requa were
recruited to retool the 1976 Walter Matthau vehicle "The Bad News
Bears" to Thornton's snarling je ne sais quoi. And "The School of
Rock's" Richard Linklater was tapped to give it that anti-"Goodbye,
Mr. Chips" edge.
"Bad News Bears" is a monster all right, one that strikes fear in the
hearts of moviegoers who prize taste and novelty.
The Helen Keller and cripple wisecracks abound in this rabidly
politically incorrect remake, which strains to point up that kids are
only as sexist, racist and confrontational as the adults who raise
them. Thornton plays Morris Buttermaker, a drunken
ex-baseball-pro-turned-rodent-exterminator who is shanghaied into
coaching a group of youth baseball reprobates. Morris' dirty dozen
are the embodiment of motley, including a fatty, a ruffian, a wiz-kid
Armenian and a black kid who lionizes white players. There is also a
self-deprecating paraplegic, a character that suddenly seems dated in
a summer in which "Murderball" dazzles with wheelchair pride.
Buttermaker's initial strategy is to finagle his gang into killing
his rats and mixing his martinis. When that fails, he recruits a
slacker slugger and an ex-girlfriend's 12-year-old daughter, an ace
pitcher whose youth and promise only feeds the inner-failure in him.
Thornton can always be counted on to ferret out hidden possibilities
in skin-deep characters, and it is apparent from his rangy
performance that he has invested a great deal of thought and empathy
in his dissolute Buttermaker. But he is constantly fighting against
the puerile impulses of a script that reduces the likes of Marcia Gay
Harden (pretentious baseball mom) and Greg Kinnear (alpha-male coach)
to shrill caricature.
Despite his "School of Rock" credentials, Linklater is not the man
for this job: His instinctive attempt to humanize this strident
collection of characters only flattens out the film. In a summer of
movies that have been particularly tough on children, "Bad News
Bears" may be the unkindest cut of them all. Even the most
potty-mouthed in the audience may feel inclined to rush back to the
quiet sanctuary of their bathroom and wash their ears out with soap.