Review: My Boss's Daughter

The only thing worse than a bad movie is a bad audience. Walking into My Boss’s Daughter, I wasn’t aware that I was getting a two-for-one deal, a double dose of pain, if you will. The teenage crowd, that attended the same screening of it as I did, consisted of an obnoxious, rood, loud, and inconsiderate bunch of people, unfortunately. I complained to the manager three times about them, before he did anything, in efforts to stop the ruckus that they were causing. By then, there were only fifteen minutes left in the movie—a little too late. The only thing stopping me from telling the group of ten to “shut up,” myself, was the fact that I know a few of the people that were in it, who go to my school. If I had given them a piece of my mind, and then ended up having to sit next to them in a high school class, for an entire semester, it wouldn’t have been pretty. In reflection, I have come to regret that decision. Before this incident, most of the impressions that they made on me were generally positive.

I assure you that I was able to concentrate on My Boss’s Daughter proficiently, despite the unnecessary interruptions, though. In doing this, I was forced to face another problem. Watching this abominable motion picture, alone, is almost as bad as listening to a reckless clique of fourteen-year-olds scream and shout every time Carmen Electra makes an appearance, onscreen. The only thing holding me back from walking out, getting a refund, and coming back to a later show, was the fact that I would actually have to witness such torture, a second time. Not only is this the worst film of the year so far, it’s painfully abysmal to watch, and essentially, just a complete disgrace. Did the audiences of America and the rest of the planet really need more MTV-sitcom-like programming slapped onto the big screen? Over opening weekend, My Boss’s Daughter grossed less than five-million dollars domestically, which speaks for itself. Apparently, the selectively selfish and piggy audiences of the world are still hungry for more of such material, however. Frankly, everyone who has the nerve to see this movie deserves to view every second of it, free of charge. After experiencing it, you will truly know how it feels like to completely waste ten dollars.

While I can’t say that director David Zucker and cast-members Ashton Kutcher and Tara Reid are “wasted talent” in My Boss’s Daughter, they’ve certainly been involved with better movies. The producer of Phone Booth and director of both upcoming Scary Movies, Zucker has definitely proven that he can make a decent and captivating flick before. When working on a film, behind the camera or during the production stage, he is usually able to dish out a generous amount of creativity. Kutcher is always great at playing the standard ‘stupid’ guy, which he best showcases in Dude Where’s My Car?. And Reid is, well, good at looking good. Ironically, in My Boss’s Daughter we’re too distracted by all of the half-witted subplots and nuanced supporting characters to even pay attention to her. A bad script can turn any actor’s work stale; the writing in this film is so awful, all of the cast’s efforts are as repulsive as rotten eggs. It even ruins the charm of veteran Terence Stamp; why he chose this role in this movie is beyond me. It’s hard not to mention that everyone is miscast, as well. I can’t say that different actors could’ve changed My Boss’s Daughter for the better, though; it, really, defines the meaning of “dead on arrival.”

The first ten minutes of My Boss’s Daughter, though conventional, are strangely enjoyable. When viewing them, I couldn’t help but question myself, as to why critics had so sorely deemed it one of the worst films of all-time. But when the first punch-line, to a weak and clichéd joke about retarded people, was executed, I instantly understood where they were coming from. After suffering through this incoherent mess of toilet humor, packed with all the stuff that the average teenage boy loves (and a blatant audience symbolizing such), I think I deserved to be praised. If you were a part of the production or distribution of My Boss’s Daughter, and are reading this, I expect that you send me an apology note, commending me for sitting through this crap, and writing a full review on it. This one makes Dumb and Dumberer look like Citizen Kane. But, hey, it’s not anywhere near as bad as Freddy Got Fingered, The Hot Chick, or Jackass: the Movie. I guess I should be glad about that.

-Danny, Bucket Reviews