Thursday, May 01, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Film: The eternal pity

By Anthony Allison

Spare a thought for Edward Gibbon as you face the inexorable onslaught by preteen barbarians brainwashed into believing they must see the latest Disney Channel spinoff.

"All that is human must retrograde if it does not advance," declared the great Enlightenment historian in Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. And boy does The Lizzie McGuire Movie prove his point.

Squeaky clean, gratingly perky, hazel-eyed Hilary Duff reprises her TV role as the awkward teen who takes a class trip to Rome with lovelorn pal Gordo, jealous rival Kate and dimwit jock Ethan (Adam Lamberg, Ashlie Brillault and Clayton Snyder). In the Eternal City she's mistaken for the estranged partner of pop star Paolo (Yani Gellman). Cue Three Coins in the Fountain and Roman Holiday travelogue footage (crisply shot by Jerzy Zielinski), stilted scenes with kid bro Jake Thomas and parents Hallie Todd and Robert Carradine, bubble-gum pop soundtrack and big Colosseum awards show climax.

"I think we can all agree that junior high is filled with embarrassing, awkward and sometimes downright humiliating moments," says Lizzie. That goes for her movie too. Even more depressing than watching another gifted director selling out to Tinseltown (Jim Fall's gay sex-comedy debut Trick was so good it even made Tori Spelling look talented), is enduring the pic's insufferable air of smugness: Mouse House execs know this tripe will sell. (They're so cynical they're even turning theme park attractions into movies nowadays--The Country Bears, the upcoming Pirates of the Caribbean.)

But great family flicks (Shrek, The Princess Bride) credit kids with the sophistication to spot when adults are being condescending. Here, Alex Borstein offers the only authentic touch as sarcastic chaperone Miss Ungermeyer, hissing contempt for the "mouth-breathing trailer trash" who doubtless will make up the film's audience.

There's only one way to avoid the mouth-breathing mindlessness that such inanity fosters: just say no. Refill your kid's vodka glass, lovingly light her crack pipe and urge her to watch a Roman Holiday DVD instead.