Comedy’s cardinal rule is never make it look hard, but that wisdom is ignored in “My Boss’s Daughter.” Story of a misunderstood young man getting in a mess when he housesits for his boss is as old as Harold Lloyd’s two-reelers, but director David Zucker, a master of whacked-out visual comedy during his “Airplane!” era, drops the ball here. The long delay from lensing to release (sans advanced screenings for critics) provides a bit of good timing given star Ashton Kutcher’s recent media-driven fame, but B.O. boost will be limited to opening weekend, with a fair stay in vid houses following.
In voiceover young Tom Stansfield (Kutcher) explains that he works as a researcher at a big Chicago publishing house but really wants to be in the creative department. Egged on by pal Paul (Jon Abrahams) to say something to Lisa (Tara Reid), daughter of the company boss, Tom manages to give her the incorrect hint that he’s gay.
Key misunderstanding happens when Lisa asks Tom to come to her house that night — which he reads as a date, and which she means as a favor to housesit while she’s at a party and dad is away on business.
When Tom arrives at the house, Stamp turns Jack’s grand tour of his immaculate mansion into an aria of command and control, but even half-awake viewers will note the mines being laid for the innocent Tom — from Jack’s prized owl O.J. who must be fed two pills (one in the mouth, one in the rectum) to the exquisite furnishings that mustn’t be touched and the anal house rule that all visitors must replace their shoes for disposable surgery room booties.
Yet, even though David Dorfman’s script establishes the conditions for farce with the entry of a series of unexpected visitors to the estate — starting with Jack’s disowned, criminal son Red (Andy Richter) and Audrey, coming to plead for her job back — things quickly spin so far out of control that an entire peace-keeping force couldn’t possibly restore order. Soon after Red comes T.J. (Michael Madsen), who then becomes a one-man wrecking (and peeing) crew. With Audrey comes her gaggle of friends, who further trash the place in their witless attempts to capture O.J., who has flown away.
One sure sign of a movie without a compass is how fine comic talents like Jeffrey Tambor (given curiously high billing) are wasted in throwaway roles, while thesps of extremely limited comic range like Shannon have generous chunks of time. The low point for the cast seems to come when Madsen is reduced to urinating over the furniture, but it’s actually later, when Stamp is literally deluged in liquefied garbage and stuffed with a rat.
Nonetheless, the movie looks and sounds reasonably good, particularly with Andrew Laws’ crucial and shiny production design.