Clube dos Pilantras 2

Every time I watch this movie blood comes gushing out of my eyes. Yes, you read that correctly: I've watched this wretched, foul thing more than once.

Caddyshack 2 went wrong for so many reasons: Harold Ramis dialing in a script and abandoning the direction duties, Rodney Dangerfield (wisely) walking away from the project because they wouldn't allow him to tinker with the script, Bill Murray showing excellent judgement and not being part of it, and a puppet being pushed forward as the feature player of a cast who deserved much better.

I can't help but think of Dyan Cannon in this and wonder why she's perpetually laughing and smiling. The only conclusion I can draw is that she is indeed the face of pure evil. Stay with me a moment. She must have been watching as the film came together and revelled in the untold agony that it would inflict on countless soon to be extremely sorry movie goers who would have this film inflicted on them. She may also have been extremely drunk. That's what I need to be right now to wash the foul taste of this complete and utter failure out of my mind. If I'm lucky it'll be washed out forever.

I have seen this film several times. I blame several of them on childhood and being a very dull and dim-witted boy who apparently had no aesthetic sensibility. Perhaps puppets are just funnier when you're a kid. No, the Muppet show is funnier now ... guess I was just dull. Caddyshack 2 is that rare kind of film that is so extraordinarily disappointing on so many levels that you convince yourself after the end credits that it couldn't have been as bad as all that. It WAS. It IS. It will only get worse with time.

My reasons for going back to this film, mercifully, are becoming fewer. Randy Quaid is limited in his role as Jackie Mason's lawyer. His opening scene isn't bad and brought out my only chuckle. We see him a few more times but it becomes as tired as the rest of the movie and descends with unfortunate rapidity from incidentally amusing to vapid wasteland. Randy Quaid acquits himself well, and this film owes him big time because if there was reason to watch this film as anything other than a torture tactic, he was it.

Maybe that's the trick of the movie. It has enough potentially endearing qualities that people watch it, are horrified at what they've done to themselves but later because the pickings were so slim can remember only what did actually amuse them. Years later they unwittingly watch it again and the cycle repeats.

Jackie Mason takes a lot of the blame for this film but in fairness, I'm not sure he deserves it. He's really trying out there but it is impossible to not to notice that he spends the entire movie doing a Rodney Dangerfield impersonation. That's who the movie was written for but I'm not sure even he could have saved it. Ultimately this fails miserably through terrible direction, bad editing (shall we count continuity errors?) and a rehashing of the same story with none of the wry humour or heart that made the first film endearing.

Dragged kicking and screaming up to a three out of ten instead of two by Randy Quaid's bulldog determination. It isn't even bad enough to laugh at. I've definitely seen worse, but trust your memory -- this one is a dog. If you've never seen it you've made excellent life choices and I salute your excellent judgement.