Man of the House film review

certificate_12A

MAN OF THE HOUSE

It has been two years since Tommy Lee Jones graced the screen in Ron Howard's The Missing, which did just that at the box office. In that time, it's hard to believe Man Of The House is the best script he's read. The premise itself: a craggy Texas Ranger put in charge of cheerleaders who have witnessed a murder, is enough to invoke scepticism. The film only serves to confirm any doubt.

The comic opportunities provided by the oil and water clash of a tough, no nonsense cop and five libidinous, scantily clad cheerleaders might have seemed like a good idea. But by the look of Jones' face at times, you sense he is praying, 'Give me an H, give me an E, give me an L, give me a P.'

Man Of The House suffers from an identity crisis. The action sequences, with gratuitous explosions and car crashes, jar with the gentler, lightweight tone of the rest of the film, while Cedric The Entertainer's over-the-top turn as the colourful ex-con turned preacher Percy Stevens, comes from a different movie altogether, a better, funnier one at that.

Things begin with a familiar sight of Jones. As Texas Ranger Roland Sharp, a Stetson shades his rugged face while dark glasses hide his inscrutable eyes. A brief, combustible action sequence is followed by a murder, witnessed by five college cheerleaders. Fearing for their safety, they are placed in a large house with Sharp appointed to guard them.

The humour centers on the curmudgeonly, starched Sharp's difficulty in dealing with his rambunctious charges. As evidenced by his estranged relationship with his own teenage daughter, he is clearly uncomfortable with the girls, in particular their insistence on exposing as much flesh as possible. "We must maintain naval visibility," they cry. That such exhibitionism is meant more to titillate audiences than irk Sharp is obviously a moot point.

Sharp's ploy of installing a giant air conditioner in an attempt to get them to wrap up is but one example of the film's lame humour, as is the sight of Sharp shopping for tampons. An attempt to expose his softer side via an unlikely liaison with a school professor (Anne Archer) also lacks conviction. At one point, Sharp, bemused by the frivolous antics of his key witnesses, declares, "I don't know what to think." It's a sentiment that is easy to relate to.

Kevin Murphy