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Look, it's a sadly low-rent and poop-happy urban retread of Three Men and a Baby...only now there are three babies. Now, other than how much cashola that old Tom Selleck flick made (which, after all, was just a retread of yet another silly French farce) is there any real reason that we need a virtual remake? You know...all the errant urine streams and gasping cringes at infant droppings and all the gags in which grown men are portrayed as simpering clueless imbeciles whenever an infant enters the room.

All that stuff...and bling-bling too.

I feel I can use the street vernacular by now, despite the fact that I'm white and Jewish and haven't listened to rap music since NWA broke up. If there's one earth-crackingly horrific trend in modern-day comedies, it's that mouth-breathing screenwriters think it's hilarious when Asian people or elderly people (or OMG...elderly Asian people! Write that down!) break into some urban street slang with mumble-mouthed results. That gag has been funny precisely ONE time in the history of cinema, and that was way back in 1980. Having Chinese Granny mumble "fo shizzle mah nozzle" (or whatever) is the surest indication of a screenwriter with more cocaine than talent.

And that kind of schpiel runs rampant in My Baby's Daddy. It's almost like the whole plot. Will moviegoers be offended by a family of Asian people named Cha Ching, Gramma Bling and Lil Ding-a-Ling? I cannot say for sure, but the plain fact remains that these are atrocious attempts at humor. Be offensive if you want, people, just make me laugh!

So essentially we have three long-time buddies, all of whom become fathers on the same day. One's an aspiring boxer who aims to be a family man, one's a nerdly nerd-o who's pining for a brassy gold-digger, and one's an Italian fella who puts his work first and is also in love with a lesbian. They're all idiots. They all have new babies. Heck, if you've seen at least four random sitcoms over the past 30 years, you've already seen what this movie has to offer.

Anthony Anderson is one of those vibrant and plucky personalities who proves effortlessly charming on some occasions and insufferably obnoxious on others. Here he straddles the line consistently, thereby allowing the shortcomings of his co-stars to take front and center. Eddie Griffin, a guy who can be pretty damn funny when he works at it, opts to affect some sort of "geek" presence here, and it simply does not work. This characterization exists solely to serve a 'nerd learns coolness' subplot that goes nowhere fast and is jettisoned just as quickly. As the only non-retarded white character in the whole movie, Michael Imperioli wanders around aimlessly.

It's clear that certain movies are "made" for a certain audience. The Lizzie McGuire Movie is "made" for teenage girls. Enough is "made" for women. My Baby's Daddy is "made" for a black audience. You notice a common thread here? (Hint: All these movies suck and suck bad.) When a movie is conceived with a demographic first and a whole lotta nothing else after that, why should one be surprised when the result is such a low-minded and base affair? Why not make a movie about fathers and babies instead of a movie about the smell of farts and the seemingly unending allure of negative racial stereotypes?

There's a scene in this movie where two babies start talking. Talking with full-on terrible CGI effects and everything. Forget that the scene makes literally no sense whatsoever since the movie is clearly meant to take place in a normal reality; notice that an African-American infant refers to her mother as "big ol' swingin' chocolate milkbags" or something pretty close to that. Pardon a weak pun, but that's gotta leave a bad taste in your mouth.

But even forgiving the nasty tone and the reliance on truly ugly clichés, the movie's just a sloppy mess. Rumor states that director Cheryl Dunye was none too happy with the final product, and (if said rumor is true) it's not too tough to figure out why. My Baby's Daddy is an amazingly shoddy-looking affair, and whoever was left alone with this thing in the editing booth was clearly cutting with their eyes closed. Scenes don't end; they implode. Plot threads are dropped at random and picked up later with no regard for logic. Scenes laden with belabored banter are incessantly intercut with inserts of adorable babies, who stare on wide-eyed, before the fart jokes begin anew. And even with the extended cartoon prologue/opening credits combo firmly in place, the whole thing clocks in at about 80 minutes.

But what do I know? Thing could make $60 million for all my whining.

And on a personal note, I must take exception with one amazingly wretched piece of casting. Any movie that expects Toronto, Canada to play the role of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania is just begging for a cheese steak across the chops.

It was amazing to learn that THIS movie apparently caused some sort of bidding war between several distributors. And now it's being dumped into an early January release with virtually no press screenings. Man oh man, The Movies are one weird business.

link directly to this review at https://www.hollywoodbitchslap.com/review.php?movie=8443&reviewer=128
originally posted: 01/09/04 00:31:52
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