From the Friday, Sept. 14 Oregonian….
So it looks like Billy Bob Thornton has gotten to this lucrative W.C. Fields place in his career where he fills his coffers by playing endless variations on the same character.
Director Harold Ramis said that on the "Ice Harvest" set, Thornton would jokingly "re-introduce himself by saying, 'Hi, I’m Billy Bob Thornton, International Screen Star.'" I like to imagine that as Thornton's personal code that he's suiting up to play this character again -- an ever-reduced variation on his "Bad Santa" misanthrope who later turned up in "Bad News Bears" and "Ice Harvest" (sort of) and "School for Scoundrels" and now "Mr. Woodcock."
In "Woodcock," this character has been boiled down to Essence of Billy Bob Thornton, International Screen Star™. He's playing the world's meanest small-town gym teacher, Jasper Woodcock. He sports a ridiculously erect brush-cut and a sneer that makes him look a little like Evel Knievel in decline. He punishes kids for stuttering and wheezing, beans slackers with basketballs, and makes anyone who doesn't meet his standards "drop for ten." And he singles out for special abuse young John Farley -- making him change into his gym clothes in front of everyone and yelling insults that include, "You are a disgrace to fat, gelatinous, out-of-shape kids the world over!"
Flash-forward 13 years later. Farley is now a famous, fit self-help author (Seann William Scott) set to appear on "Oprah." And when he pops into his hometown to receive the "Corn Cob Key" during the town's annual "Cornival," he finds out Mr. Woodcock has been dating and defiling his mother (Susan Sarandon) for five months.
Cue Oedipal freak-outs! Cue irrational competitiveness and territory-marking! Cue career suicide! Cue endless corn puns and utterances of the word "Woodcock"!
Overall, the movie is mind-blowingly similar to last year's "School for Scoundrels," only not as clever or heartfelt. The endless scenes of one-upsmanship between Farley and Woodcock are a drag. John's love interest (Melissa Sagemiller) is inserted at random. The sex jokes are crass enough that I actually felt sorry for Sarandon. And not for one single moment did I believe that Mr. Farley was a young Tony Robbins. (That last problem is the script's fault more than Scott's.)
But while it would be glib, easy and fun to write the whole movie off as junk -- it was apparently extensively re-shot -- it does generate a few actual laughs.
There are two solid sight gags and funny supporting work by Amy Poehler as a boozy publicist. And while he is absolutely coasting his way through this nonsense, Thorton can play this character in his sleep, and does; he's one of those actors you'd watch reading the phone book -- except in this case instead of "reading the phone book" it's "delivering arias of deadpan but lazily written abuse."
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C-minus; 87 minutes; rated PG-13 for crude and sexual content, thematic material, language and a mild drug reference.
'Mr. Woodcock' (The Oregonian, Sept. 14, 2007)
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