Death on a Small Kids' Show
By Michael Sean McGowan
Murder, mayhem, and the mob are just another day in life of
children's show in "Death to Smoochy." (film review)
The idea that someone would feed on their violent fantasies against the dinosaur
Barney (sillinus personificus) by coming up with an idea like Death to Smoochy
is the ultimate no-brainer. In fact, it lays many traps for such a film since
making fun of children’s shows with their brightly colored sets, patronizing
songs, and cast of adults with no sense of shame, makes for such an easy target.
Surprisingly, Death to Smoochy avoids this pitfall and the
problem of making its “message” a one-sided sermon (like the serious minded
bombs 15 Minutes and John Q) by setting the film in an alternate universe that,
at least, must never be boring.
Okay, so officially the movie takes place on Earth in New
York City (mutually exclusive?), but it rockets to such an elaborate high of
absurdist surrealism that any resemblance to the real world is purely
coincidental. In some films this would be a deficit. Here it allows director
Danny DeVito to pile one bizarro happenstance on top of another without fear of
the whole tower falling down.
As the story opens, we see Rainbow Randolph, a
brightly-colored song and dance man who is the most popular children’s show host
on TV. Randolph (Robin Williams) also has a racket for extorting rich parents
who want their kids to be seen on the show (it isn’t that subtle that the set to
his show is laces with dollar signs). In pure tabloid fashion, Randolph is
busted and kicked off the airwaves. In a damage-control mindset, the network
brass set out to find a replacement that is as clean and threatening as soap.
They find the Irish Spring in question in the form of Sheldon
Mopes (Edward Norton) who has a singing and dancing alter-ego in the form a big,
pink rhinoceros named Smoochy. We first meet Mopes doing his act in a run-down
mental institution where it is difficult to differentiate him from the patients.
Almost literally overnight, Smoochy is put on prime time and becomes a national
success singing about the values of love and organic cookies.
The casting and the characters are the most interesting part
of Death to Smoochy since these are the parts that could have most easily fallen
apart. Take Mopes, whose character is so squeaky-clean that he refuses
merchandising options and turns an ice show into a benefit concert. This kind of
character could get the audience to turn on him quickly, but Norton, who is
normally fond of playing intense psychotics, makes him so gosh-darn earnest and
diligent that one can’t help but to keep plugging for him. Of course, given his
foil, this isn’t that hard. Randolph, who develops a murderous obsession with
revenge against Smoochy, is played as a flat-out scoundrel. In a way, this is a
role that is just a little too easy for Robin Williams. He certainly has the
goods- a penchant for mixing four-letter words in a metaphorical blender and a
face that looks like it has been stomped on by the world, but this is all
training day for Williams and the results don’t deviate much from the
expectations. One can only wonder what Norton’s Fight Club co-star Brad Pitt
could have done with a role like this.
Again, it would seem obvious to stock a movie satirizing
children’s shows with professional hits, decapitations, charity funds that break
bones for kickbacks, and the Irish Mafia. But De Vito’s genius is to pump
everything up to a laughing gas high as if he has nothing else to lose. As a
result, Death to Smoochy, is probably most comparable to Natural Born Killers,
another satire that went to such far-fetched, risky, potentially noxious
extremes that its viewers either fell into a loved-it or hated-it pigeon hole.
Death to Smoochy is, depending on your point of view, either
bold or obnoxious, riotous or unpleasant. The one thing it is certainly not is
dull. Given what worn trails it is already walking, this is all the more reason
to give Smoochy an extra round of applause. A-