Published: December 22, 2010
Directed by Paul Weitz
Opens Dec. 22
This is the third installment of making a joke about how the name “Focker” sounds like the word “fucker,” and while this movie certainly is a big stinky turd, there are some small fragments of comedy-corn to examine if you find yourself trapped in front of this crap. Ben Stiller is back as Male-Nurse-But-No-Homo Gaylord “Greg” Focker, and Robert De Niro wrings a little more self-parody out of the role of Gay’s formerly scary ex-government-operative father-in-law Jack Byrnes, now—almost interestingly—dissolving into dotage and impotence. And—again, not to oversell this piece of shit—if you pay attention, there really are teeny-tiny pieces of interesting work in the carcass of this picked-over holiday turkey. The children for sure, played by Daisy Tahan and Colin Baiocchi, are funny-looking and flawed, and Owen Wilson returns as Kevin, the psychically damaged, smarmy overachiever religioso-weirdo still in love with Gaylord’s wife Pam (Teri Polo), and Babs Streisand and Dustin Hoffman check in for a few minutes as Gaylord’s earthy, hippie-dippy parents.
The plot revolves around paterfamilias Jack’s attempts to ensure a solid Byrne family org-chart, and all the familiar gag-hashtags are back: Gay, Focker, circle of trust, “I’m watching you,” vagina, and penis. There’s projectile vomiting and testicle trauma, Harvey Keitel pops in for a part that could have gone to a good character actor who needed the work, Deepak Chopra needs to stop starfucking, boobtacular Jessica Alba takes one for the team in bra and panties as a crazy bitch who wants to fuck, and Robert De Niro gets a boner.
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