So This Guy Comes to You with a Wacky, Original Script . . .
Written: Feb 25 '01 (Updated Feb 25 '01)
Product Rating:
Pros: The genuinely clever premise is almost as enjoyable as Eddie Murphy's performance.
Cons: I'm unimpressed by the argument that the point is bad execution and execrable filler.
The Bottom Line: Sloucho International Productions cannot recommend Bowfinger, as it made the relatively young and reasonably vivacious Mr. Sloucho feel old.
A starving, shivering screenplay writer bursts through the front door of Sloucho International Productions. Unintimidated by the prerecorded protests of the inflatable administrative assistant that defends my office with slightly staticky cries of, "Mr. Sloucho is in a meeting right now," he charges into my inner sanctum, glares at me across the cheap formica desk that I've been meaning to replace with some kind of oak or mahogany monstrosity, and says, "I demand that you read this script; and it's okay for me to make the demand because you'll only be doing yourself a favor."
Successful film producers (comme moi) know how to handle upstarts like this young screenwriter. I politely ask him to hit me with the premise as I punch the button that changes my inflatable assistant's staticky cry to, "Do you want me to call the security guards or the police, Mr. Sloucho? And remember how you told me to remind you that that the security guards can get away with more violence and less scrutiny from the press."
But the button sticks; and before I can frighten him away, the screenwriter manages to blurt out his premise: "A struggling producer needs desperately to make a movie featuring a top Hollywood actor, so he decides to incorporate footage from the actor's life into his film in such a way that the actor appears to be the star."
Now Sloucho Productions didn't scrabble its way to the top of the Hollywood heap by turning a deaf ear to a good idea, so I lean back in my chair, put my feet up on my desk, and light a cigar--all very slowly. Then I say, with all of the tough-guy-executive panache that I can muster, "Okay, kid. Consider me intrigued. Slide that script over here and tell me about this movie of yours."
Now ask yourself: Is it really all that funny when he slides the script across my desk and I fall out of my chair as I lean forward to pick it up? That's sort of the problem with Bowfinger. There's a lot to like about this movie--and an awful lot more that I would like to like about it. But in the end it relies too much on the comedic value of metaphorical prat falls to succeed with those of us who want more than the standard-issue three and one-half smiles from a Hollywood comedy.
Bobby Bowfinger (Steve Martin) delivers a competent (if uninspired) portrayal of a down-on-his-luck small-time producer-director who needs desperately, both for his personal and professional well-being, to put together a decent film before he turns fifty.
He senses great possibility for a triumphant (if belated) splash onto the Hollywood scene with a sci-fi/horror/thriller piece churned out by his accountant/receptionist and entitled Chubby Rain. The plot of this movie-within-a-movie is never made entirely clear, but we do know that it features aliens who invade the earth by hiding inside raindrops and a hero who presumably defeats them before closing the film with the line, Gotcha Suckas!.
In Sloucho's book, that is rock solid laugh #1.
Unfortunately, it takes more than one rock solid laugh to make up for Bowfinger's painfully insipid opening scene. As the camera pans through Bobby Bowfinger's unimpressive bungalow, we hear a bill collector for the phone company leave an angry message on his answering machine. Obviously, part of this movie's agenda is to make fun of some of the most exhausted cliches in the vocabulary of a Hollywood hack, but there's nothing terribly amusing about simply duplicating those cliches.
The scene gets worse, however. After Bowfinger finishes his feverish reading of the script for Chubby Rain (which he seems genuinely to regard as a masterpiece), he turns to his dog for moral support. The exact words aren't important, but the question is something along the lines of, "You still believe in me, don't you, my loyal pooch?"
I'm an animal lover, but I'll confess that I would rather have seen the dog burst into flames and deliver its soul to the canine equivalent of Satan than the anti-hilarious scene that I got. Although you would never in a million years have anticipated it, the dog's response to Bowfinger's plea for a vote of confidence is to get up and vaguely whimper and walk away. Do you see the brilliance of that? The guy's own dog has lost faith in him. That just goes to show you how extremely down on his luck Bowfinger is. That's why they pay Steve Martin the big bucks. When writers give him a mediocre scene, he figures out a way to salvage it, right?
Despite the opening scene, I'll admit that Bowfinger was able to win me over (temporarily) with the plot summary of Chubby Rain. Although I didn't laugh during Bowfinger's borderline funny attempts to raise funding for the movie, I found myself genuinely interested in Eddie Murphy's portrayal of Kit (Keep It Together) Ramsay, the top black leading man in Hollywood. Kit is plagued by delusions that will end up rather predictably solving any of the problems encountered by Bowfinger's absurd plot, but his twisted consciousness is a lot of fun, if only because it forces him to rely on the guidance of counselors at Mindhead.
Mindhead may be modelled on any number of odd organizations, but certainly made me think of L. Ron Hubbard's Church of Scientology and its profound influence on such Hollywood celebrities as John Travolta. The name of Mindhead isn't laugh-out-loud funny, but it was clever enough for me to credit it with a quarter of a smile.
I definitely did laugh out loud when it occurred to Bowfinger that the only way to get Kit Ramsay into his film would be to film him without Kit's knowledge or permission and to work the scenes into his movie. It's very rare that I encounter a premise that I wish Sloucho International Productions had come up with, but I'll admit I really liked the idea behind this film.
In Sloucho's book, the premise is rock solid laugh #2.
The unimaginative plot complications that follow are not only hackneyed and tedious, but the kind that any Steve Martin fan is obliged to derogate as a way of paying homage to one of the finer comedic minds of our time. I grew up thinking of Steve Martin as a comic genius (between his appearances on Saturday Night Live, his stand-up routines, and such films as The Jerk). He's better than this movie. And although I'm sure he could defend himself by arguing that all of the lame moments in the film are making fun of themselves for being lame, I would respond by pointing out that I still like to see some genuinely funny things in a comedy from time to time.
Take, for instance, the garage scene in which Kit Ramsay is driven to distraction by the sound of echoing footsteps. The sound is produced by Bobby Bowfinger's highly trained dog, a dog that walks when Bowfinger tells it to walk and stops when Bowfinger tells it to stop. Since the sound of footsteps could have been created much more easily in any number of ways, part of me understands that there is something vaguely amusing about the way that so many films and television shows go so far afield to incorporate animals just because animals appeal to such a broad demographic. But a much bigger part of me wants to see something funny happen with the dog that makes that lesson amusing in addition to being on-target.
Bowfinger is at its best in the scenes that include Kit Ramsay's ocularly- and dentally- and mentally-challenged brother, portrayed, of course, by Eddie Murphy. When Ramsay's brother auditions for the part of Ramsay's body double in scenes that it is impossible to shoot with Ramsay, Bowfinger asks the bespectacled younger Ramsay whether he will agree to show his buttocks on screen. Murphy grins a hilarious, braces-studded grin, thinks the question over for a bit, and then finally slurps out an amused and salivary agreement.
Rock solid laugh #3.
From then on, the film is unrelentingly hackneyed. The younger Ramsay is forced to run through traffic for an annoyingly ill-conceived "action scene," but Murphy's comedic talent sparkles just enough to warrant another quarter of a smile despite the viewer's certainty that Bowfinger is going to go for the cheap laugh of making him do it again.
Perhaps the worst part of Bowfinger is the gratuitous tribute to (or rip-off of) the Ed Wood scene in which Johnny Depp's Wood watches the premier of Plan 9 from Outer Space with starstruck rapture. Then again, maybe the worst part is the actress who sleeps her way from actor to writer to producer to movie star to high-powered lesbian in a humorless effort to demonstrate that chicks from Ohio who come to Hollywood in order to become starlets know better than to do so without considerable expertise in the oral sex department. Then again, maybe the worst part is the way that Mindhead's efforts to protect Kit Ramsay from Bowfinger eventually result in their having to broker his agreement to participate in the film and show up at the premier.
In my opinion, however, the worst thing about Bowfinger is that Steve Martin and Eddie Murphy had a really nice vehicle at their disposal and opted not to infuse it with the kind of exuberance that used to come to them so effortlessly and automatically. Bowfinger is not only for the most part unfunny, but unfunny despite a premise that offered its producers and performers a world of comedic opportunity. Clearly, Murphy and Martin were just too tired to give this project the shot in the arm that they would have contributed so graciously twenty years ago. And so Bowfinger not only failed to make me laugh, but succeeded in making me sad. Watching two of my childhood heros go through the motions of making a funny movie is beyond disappointing; Bowfinger had the unfortunate quality of making me feel as inelastic and tired as Steve Martin must have been while making the film. Sloucho International Productions cannot recommend Bowfinger, as it made the relatively young and reasonably vivacious Mr. Sloucho feel old.
Kit Ramsey (Murphy) is Hollywood's biggest star. Bobby Bowfinger (Martin) is Hollywood's smallest player. Together, they're Hollywood's hottest teamMore at HotMovieSale.com
Bobby Bowfinger (Steve Martin), a nearly bankrupt aspiring movie producer-director is about to take one last shot at fame and fortune to hit the big t...More at Buy.com Marketplaces
Epinions.com periodically updates pricing and product information from third-party sources, so some information may be slightly out-of-date. You should confirm all information before relying on it.
- Add to My Yahoo!: 
- Add to Google Homepage: 
© 1999-2009 Shopping.com, Inc.