Death to Smoochy

Reviewed by:
Eric Alt

Taking the purple-tinged piss out of the Barney phenomenon is a long time coming, and, you can argue, long past the point of cultural relevance. The dino cult has lost a lot of steam in the past few years, making Death to Smoochy a case of too little, too late.

Although it definitely has its moments, Danny DeVito’s dark comedy just doesn’t go far enough in satirizing the world of children’s entertainment. Sure, portraying thinly veiled versions of Disney and Nickelodeon as a criminal network so violent and corrupt it would make Tony Soprano squeamish is the right idea, but Death to Smoochy pulls its punches instead of delivering the death blows. If DeVito really wanted this thing to be dark, he should have left out some of the goofier elements and spun the story more around Robin Williams’ deranged Rainbow Randolph. Williams’ performance suggests a more twisted movie lurking somewhere underneath, if only the story had allowed him to go that way (it left us waiting impatiently for the upcoming One Hour Photo, where Robin apparently gets really psycho). On a side note, why the hell isn’t Catherine Keener a bigger star? Sexy and acid-tongued, she can turn even a half-written role into something special (Julia and Halle can’t claim that), like she does here. With funny turns from the always-reliable Edward Norton and The Daily Show’s Jon Stewart, Smoochy isn’t a total loss. It’s just not the middle finger to corporate child-molestation we were hoping for.

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