Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo Reviews
In his 1999 debut, Deuce Bigalow emerged as a shameless beach bum, driving a clunker in a land of Porsche Cayennes, cleaning the scum from the fish tanks of the rich and famous.
All he has left of her is a prosthetic leg, which he totes around devotedly. Yes, that's the kind of inane humor we're dealing with. But, amazingly, amidst the smutty silliness, there are some laughs.
Jokes that were barely funny the first time around -- like Griffin's endlessly resourceful terminology for male prostitutes and their anatomy -- now feel as tired as Deuce after a heavily booked weekend.
Lest someone cry 'pompous puritan,' let's quickly state that irreverence is often at the heart of inspired comedy. But this flick's flamboyant political incorrectness is more malicious than mischievous.
Schneider, who co-wrote the script, has succeeded in making a film that's nearly review-proof: Most of the dialogue -- packed with names for fictitious sex acts and the gigolos who perfect them -- is unrepeatable in a newspaper.
Schneider, one of the luckier of all Saturday Night Live alums who now make millions in the movies, may well be a fine fellow and excellent company on the set, but on screen he's blank affability incarnate.
Rude, crude and, uh, cosmopolitan, Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo waves the flag for R-rated politically incorrect studio comedy but doesn't top the laugh ratio of the first Deuce misadventure.
Least imaginative of all -- the TV-commercial director they hired to film it. Yeah, his name is Bigelow, Mike Bigelow. That must have been a real knee-slapper of a meeting.