You, Me and Dupree (2/5 stars) A tired comic tale lamely told.
if you are going to go up against George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart ("The Man Who Came to Dinner") and Jean Renoir ("Boudu Saved From Drowning") to tell the old chestnut about an impossible house guest who will not leave, then you'd better have the comedic and dramatic goods. The team behind "You, Me and Dupree" -- directors Anthony and Joe Russo and writer Michael Le Sieur -- do not. The comedy is obvious and flat while the drama is stale. They did do one thing right, however: They attracted a stellar cast.
Kate Hudson is every shade of winsome and adorable, while Matt Dillon as her newlywed husband morphs believably from likable, stand-up guy to anal-retentive jerk. Owen Wilson is most definitely a slacker's slacker, and Michael Douglas is up to old tricks as a wily father-in-law with an agenda.
So Universal can look forward to an above-average opening, attracting largely female audiences. But the movie loses focus about halfway through, so boxoffice will probably level off around the $50 million range.
There is something about the "situation" in this situation comedy that rings false. Molly (Hudson) and Carl (Dillon) return from a Hawaiian wedding and honeymoon to discover that Dupree (Wilson), Carl's best man and pal since apparently kindergarten, is suddenly broke and homeless. Naturally, Carl offers to let him stay at his house for "a couple of days" -- without consulting his new wife -- and you can pretty much tell where the rest of the movie is going.
One problem, though, is the house itself. Carl works for Molly's dad (Douglas), a real-estate tycoon, in a lower echelon job, but he and Molly have a dream home. Who paid for it? If dad paid for it, there is nary a hint in the complicated dynamics among father, daughter and son-in-law that will occupy much of the movie to suggest that he did. If he didn't, then the well-to-do couple can afford to send Dupree to a motel for a month or two while he gets his act together rather than let him single-handedly destroy their marriage through his adolescent antics.
But no, the movie wants to explore the many ways a thirtysomething male, who has "never truly been domesticated," can screw up a seemingly solid, healthy, loving marriage. None of these shenanigans, which you have seen many times before, is the least bit interesting. Indeed, Le Sieur's script strains to come up with improbable acts for Dupree to commit.
Mostly, the movie, indifferently directed by the brothers Russo, must rely on the performing skills of an excellent cast. They do as well as the story will allow. Wilson can play a goof like nobody's business, so he puts terrific physical clowning into the role.
The Hudson-Dillon relationship is more interesting for what the movie leaves out than what it portrays. They seem ideally unsuited to each other, but then opposites do attract, so the relationship is ripe with possibilities the movie fritters away. And the fact that Carl has married the boss' daughter yet can barely get past a scowling office security guard (Sidney Liufau) each day speaks volumes about the two men's relationship.
Douglas, letting his hair grow magnificently white, is "Wall Street's" Gordon Gekko grown older and mellower into a figure of comedy. Again, this is ripe territory, which the movie mostly ignores for jokes about backed-up toilets and skateboarding accidents.
Some of the comedy just doesn't play. Carl can't possibly think Dupree, who is nothing if not loyal, is hitting on his wife. After all, Carl was the one who came home late, leaving Dupree and Molly to share an intimate dinner for two. And would Carl really keep his old porn collection lying around the house? And if he would, what does that say about him?
The production feels overly calculated, with costumes and design elements to "indicate" how you are supposed to feel about characters and extras and kids to populate the newlyweds' street, who seemingly swing into action at the sound of a clapboard.
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