The U.S. has urban centers that house a large minority of its
population some being people who (like Woody Allen) feel
"choked" when they come into contact with trees. Another large
fraction live in the suburbs, those who may have grown up in the
big cities but think that the good life can be found within striking
distance of metropolitan entertainments as long as you don't
have to live there. Small towns are now considered the
repository of an aging population; those who have always lived
there and never thought of going anywhere else or even of
traveling more than fifteen miles from the town church. Yet as
shown by Steven Brill's "Mr. Deeds," there is much to admire in
the sticks. Those who populate Small Town USA are nicer, free
of greed, and if they wind up in jail it's only for the night. Such
was the domain of the title character played by Gary Cooper in
Frank Capra's "Mr. Deeds Goes to Town," about a fellow who
inherits $20 million and wants to give it all away to needy
people. That 1936 version, based on the story "Opera Hat" by
Clarence Budington Kelland, garnered all four stars in Maltin's
annual movie and video guide. Corny though it may be, the
classic film scores largely because of the emotional tugs of a
reporter (played by Jean Arthur) who sincerely wants to find out
what makes such a selfless fellow tick.
Few people would grant the big four to the current
pic although one online critic notes that the guy sitting in front of
him in the theater "almost peed in his pants with laughter." I'd
add that the guy sitting a few seats from me hit the floor with his
feet so many times I thought he was rehearsing for the off-
Broadway hit "Stomp." Nonetheless to downgrade "Mr. Deeds"
simply because it does not live up to its source material might
be considered mean-spirited, particularly since we should not
consider Sandler's saga as one competing with Capra's.
Filled with one-liners by one of the old masters of stand-up
comedy, "Mr. Deeds" was obviously made with Adam Sandler in
mind and no one else. The thirty-six year old comic (born in
Brooklyn I'm proud to say) seems not to have aged since his
appearance in "Billy Madison" seven years ago, nor does his
humor appear to be maturing which may be to the good,
because comics, Robin Williams and Woody Allen as examples,
have hardly come across consistently when playing against
type. Sandler is the sort of guy who can make us smile simply
by his look of blank-faced innocence, and who best to play the
man who holds the deed to naivete than he?
Portraying someone whose body's only harmful bone is its
penchant for punching out punks both white-collar and those of
the mugger variety Sandler is Longfellow Deeds who, typically
enough hates his first name and any title, preferring to be called
simply Deeds by friends and strangers alike. The owner and
chief delivery man of the pizza shop which is the social center of
Mandrake Falls, New Hampshire (filmed in New Milford,
Connecticut), Deeds learns that he has inherited $40 billion from
a Rupert Murdock-like owner of a communications chain, is
taken by chopper to New York by a top company exec (Peter
Gallagher), and made the punching bag of a slimy TV news
anchor (Jared Harris) who sends reporter Babe Bennett
(Winona Ryder) to learn more about him.
Enjoying his huge new town house, he nevertheless insists on
equality with his admittedly sneaky butler, Emilio (John Turturro)
but has his reputation ruined by the tabloid anchorman using
edited footage to turn heroic acts into sleazy deeds.
Sentimentality abounds in the relationship of Deeds with Babe,
the latter realizing what a scuzz she really is to try to ruin the rep
of the nicest guy she's ever met.
The movie has some unnecessary, even embarrassing
sequences involving caustic tennis pro John McEnroe and
would-be presidential candidate Al Sharpton the latter seeming
to compete with Deeds for the title of corniest writer of Hallmark-
style poetry. Steve Buscemi checks in now and then as "Crazy-
Eyes," a pug-eyed village idiot whose idea of driving an
expensive Corvette is to ram it into a tree, smile, and say, "I'm
OK!"
Despite cheap editing which would befit a stand-up comic
waiting for the sound track to come in each time he cracks one,
the movie is watchable thanks to (rather than despite) a one-
joke Sandler who is as charming as he was in "The Wedding
Singer" and who gets his predictable comeuppance at the
annual stockholders' meeting as the proverbial one-share
renegade who in minutes converts a roomful of greedy tycoons
into a bunch of emotional children who agree to a person that
none at the age of eight ever said, "Hey, mom, when I grow up I
want to be an investment banker."
Copyright © 2002 Harvey Karten
