Who's Your Caddy?
The Weinstein Company // PG-13 // $28.95 // November 27, 2007
Review by David Cornelius | posted December 6, 2007
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A colossus of ineptitude and inanity, "Who's Your Caddy?" is the sort of film Homer Simpson might watch, perhaps on a triple bill with "Hail to the Chimp" and "The School of Hard Knockers." One half expects Troy McClure to walk into frame.

It's not enough that the damn thing is overflowing with terrible acting, amateurish direction, and a screenplay that clumsily combines groan-inducing stereotypes, painful dialogue, limp slapstick, and tiresome fart jokes. No, the defining moment of "Who's Your Caddy?" - indeed, one of the dumbest scenes you will ever see in your lifetime - comes late in the film, when we get to see a main character washing a golf cart in the rain. It's the sort of thing that demands a triple take, and not only does DVD allow you to do just such a thing, but you can also check out the director's commentary to hear the explanation. Yay!

According to Don Michael Paul (he also co-wrote the script, lucky us), it started raining before the shoot, time was tight, and the decision was made to film the scene anyway. Now, one wonders why the character would still be washing the golf cart, considering. After all, there's nothing in the dialogue referring to the chore (it's just two guys talking about the plot; they could be standing anywhere), and any semi-skilled director would easily find a way to rework the scene accordingly. Not Don Michael Paul, who previously gave us "Half Past Dead;" who broke through in the business with his screenplay for "Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man;" whose acting career landed him plum roles in "Alien from L.A.," "Robot Wars," and "Rolling Vengeance;" who genuinely believes his best current career move is to make a comedy called "Who's Your Caddy?" Paul, perhaps stymied by the mere notion of logic, opted to film the scene exactly as written, rain or not, and his defense on the commentary is along the lines of "I didn't think anyone would notice." I am reminded that Ed Wood didn't think anyone would notice cardboard tombstones falling over, too.

So you see the sort of movie we have on hand, and that's just the technical angle. (The whole thing's smothered in awkward editing and piss-poor framing, but such things seem incidental compared to bigger problems, like, well, everything else.)

The script (Paul co-wrote with Brandley Allenstein, whose only other screen credit is "Juwanna Mann," and first-time scribe Robert Henny, who at least did not write "Juwanna Mann") comes off like a parody of hackneyed comedy - the whole thing hinges on lazy black-people-are-different-than-white-people stand-up comedy set-ups, and it's a sitcom premise that makes one wish for the subtleties of the distressingly similarly rappers-go-to-Harvard crapfest "How High."

Antwan "Big Boi" Patton, perhaps looking to completely ditch any credibility he gets from being a member of Outkast, stars as Christopher "C-Note" Hawkins, a rap superstar who just moved in next door to an exclusive country club run by snooty white guy Dick Cummings (a permanently mortified Jeffrey Jones; even if you include both "Howard the Duck" and the child porn conviction, this movie still remains the worst thing he's ever done - and he always looks like he knows it). C-Note has a love for golf and more or less uses extortion to gain club membership, but he also has an agenda: years ago, Christopher's dad was Cummings' caddy, and when he broke Cummings' club record for the golf course, Cummings accused him of fraud.

For a slapstick comedy so dependent on weed jokes and pratfalls (yes, there is a shot of Jeffrey Jones falling face-first into horse dung), it's kind of embarrassing to see the writers also attempt heartfelt drama. We get repeated flashbacks to C-Note's youth, via washed-out 8mm home movies of father and son on the golf course; the flashbacks gets cranked into high gear during a "this one's for you, dad" finale that fails at every attempt at seriousness.

There's also a potential love interest between Christopher and Shannon (Tamala Jones), the lawyer Cummings hires to try to get rid of the rapper. After a scene or two of flirting and almost-kissing, this storyline falls by the wayside, as if lost in the clutter of other plot threads. (Also completely abandoned: a subplot involving heartfelt advice from C-Note's mother, played by Jenifer Lewis. Her scenes, possibly all filmed in one quick afternoon, are dropped into the story so randomly and with such little effect on the rest of the picture that one wonders if they were on loan from another film.)

The remaining bits form a sort of half-assed "Caddyshack" wannabe (although it can't even reach the non-heights of "Caddyshack II"). C-Note befriends a young caddy (the outstandingly named Cam Gigandet) with hidden golf skills; the rapper's entourage (including Faizon Love, Finesse Mitchell, and the hideously shrill "View" co-host Sherri "The Earth Is Flat" Shepherd, who manages to remember all her lines, bless her semi-retarded heart) causes havoc at the club by being loud and obnoxious; the caddies (James Avery and Bruce Bruce among them) engage in random, worthless antics; the white folks at the club learn to lighten up; a horse eats a bag of marijuana, then falls over; Jeffrey Jones gets punched in the crotch; etc. The whole thing wraps up with a showdown on the course, with Cummings and a pro ringer facing off against C-Note and the caddy.

The showdown's a complete waste, but then, what did you expect? Earlier on, the script delivers a lengthy set-up showcasing the young caddy's trick shot abilities. The logical step, then, would be to put those skills to use for the finale, with the guy landing a last-chance moment mirroring the earlier trick. But no. Instead, his efforts in the game amount to nothing, and it's up to C-Note to deliver the potentially game-winning stroke. (Cue the out-of-place sports drama anthem and the home movie flashbacks!)

I haven't even mentioned the midget hitmen or the seemingly endless rap video interludes or the unbearable appearance by the terminally unfunny Andy Milonakis, who plays Cummings hip hop-obsessed son. Nor have I mentioned the endless reliance on a loathsome worldview (old white people are stuffy, black people are loud and rude, women are sex objects, gay people are swishy fools, intelligence and dignity should be shoved aside in favor of bling and attitude) that leads to a movie without a single redeeming, or even tolerable, character. Nor have I lamented that this is a movie whose best idea of comedy is to name the villain "Dick Cummings," because, I dunno, Johnson von Orgasm and Insipid Double Entendre were taken.


Video & Audio

As expected with a movie this new, the anamorphic widescreen (1.85:1) transfer is quite solid; Paul fills his movie with filler shots of lovely sunsets and lush greens, and the colors pop. However, if you're not watching on a progressive scan system, you'll notice a great amount of aliasing problems and general jaggedness throughout - keep an eye on all that argyle.

The soundtrack, presented in Dolby 5.1, is a workable, problem-free mix, with the constant use of music never overwhelming the dialogue. Optional English and Spanish subtitles are offered.


As mentioned above, Paul appears on a commentary track, along with Faison Love. To their credit, the two discuss the movie's critical reception, with Paul often second guessing potential racial punchlines; he admits the joke in which a dreadlocked Finesse Mitchell feeds weed to a horse probably wasn't a good idea. Love, meanwhile, defends every joke and dismisses any grumblings over racism as coming from stuffy critics who don't know how to laugh. (He insists Alfred Hitchcock once told Ingrid Bergman to not sweat a key scene because "it's only a fucking movie." I wonder if Love was paraphrasing there.) The two spend a lot of time complaining about critics in general (unaware, it seems, that the general public also hates the flick - it currently sits at number two on IMDB's reader poll of the worst movies of all time) while sincerely believing they've made a genuinely funny, well-made motion picture. (They even pause to laugh at their own jokes.) Most depressing is a moment when both insist a tenth-place opening weekend at the box office isn't as bad as it sounds, and at least their movie made more cash than "Daddy Day Camp." It all makes for one of the most delightfully deluded commentaries ever recorded.

A small collection of deleted scenes (4:24 total) reveal that yes, there were scenes bad enough to get cut from "Who's Your Caddy?"

The making-of featurette (14:58) is divided into three short parts. The first and second are both very rambling, with EPK-style interviews sloppily pasted together with behind-the-scenes footage; vague themes include Big Boi learning how to play golf (from the pitifully mismatched editing in the movie, it looks like he never really learned), Faison Love being a hoot on the set (he runs around in between takes with no shirt on! hilarious!!), and everyone being afraid of a scene involving a helicopter. The third section details Our Stories, a new production house from the founder of BET; this film is their debut effort. The company name has a hint of irony to it, as within a year, these folks probably won't be so eager to claim possession of "Who's Your Caddy?"

The movie's trailer (2:20) is also included. A separate set of previews plays as the disc loads; you can skip over them if you choose.

All bonus material is presented in non-anamorphic letterbox.

Final Thoughts

There's nothing redeeming about "Who's Your Caddy?", unless, I suppose, you count the hours of slackjawed disbelief you'll enjoy while trying to figure out if maybe, just maybe, they all made a movie this horrendous on purpose, you know, as a lark. Then you'll realize, no, the movie just sucks. Skip It.

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