For even the most pumped-up action movie superstar, there's nothing like appearing in a family-friendly vehicle opposite a scene-stealing tyke to bring a touch of humanity to one's image. Indeed, such a career choice has become a virtual right-of-passage for these bodybuilder-turned-actor-types as they endeavor to diversify their portfolios and pad their resumes. We've already had Arnold Schwarzenegger and Vin Diesel doing the daddy-day-care bit - in "Kindergarten Cop" and "The Pacifier," respectively - and now we have Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson making like a wet-nurse in "The Game Plan," a warm-and-fuzzy piece of generic fluff designed to be enjoyed and disposed of in roughly equal measure.
Joe Kingman is a professional quarterback with an ego and a paycheck as massive as his ginormous biceps. His free-swinging bachelor lifestyle consists of a swanky penthouse pad, endless parties, a stable of gorgeous women, and a Mercedes SLR McLaren worth a cool half a mill or so, give or take a few thou. The problem is that Joe doesn't seem to realize just how lonely and empty his life really is until one fine day when an 8-year-old bundle-of-joy named Peyton shows up quite literally on his doorstep to inform him that she is the long-lost daughter he never knew he had. Suddenly, this international playboy is thrust into the wholly alien world of ballet recitals, bubble baths and parental responsibility.
Like the aforementioned movies that preceded it, "The Game Plan" is based on the premise that there is nothing quite so hilarious and aww-evoking as the sight of a steroid-pumped behemoth getting in touch with his nurturing nature. Indeed, it's the incongruity between the macho façade and the tenderhearted actions that provides the comic tension necessary to make such stories work. And "The Game Plan" certainly milks the formula for all it's worth. The predictable storyline is made up of equal parts lowbrow slapstick and push-button sentimentality, as Joe ultimately sees the errors of his ways and becomes a much better man for his experience.
Though no great shakes as an actor, Johnson has always displayed a certain self-deprecating charm on screen and he uses it to good effect here. As the precocious moppet, Madison Pettis manages to keep the bathos and saccharine down to an acceptable minimum - which is more than can be said for the movie itself, actually, which ladles the syrup on pretty darn thick in the closing stretches.
Nevertheless, this is, I suppose, a tolerable time-waster - provided you're part of the right audience demographic for this sort of thing, that is.
Joe Kingman is a professional quarterback with an ego and a paycheck as massive as his ginormous biceps. His free-swinging bachelor lifestyle consists of a swanky penthouse pad, endless parties, a stable of gorgeous women, and a Mercedes SLR McLaren worth a cool half a mill or so, give or take a few thou. The problem is that Joe doesn't seem to realize just how lonely and empty his life really is until one fine day when an 8-year-old bundle-of-joy named Peyton shows up quite literally on his doorstep to inform him that she is the long-lost daughter he never knew he had. Suddenly, this international playboy is thrust into the wholly alien world of ballet recitals, bubble baths and parental responsibility.
Like the aforementioned movies that preceded it, "The Game Plan" is based on the premise that there is nothing quite so hilarious and aww-evoking as the sight of a steroid-pumped behemoth getting in touch with his nurturing nature. Indeed, it's the incongruity between the macho façade and the tenderhearted actions that provides the comic tension necessary to make such stories work. And "The Game Plan" certainly milks the formula for all it's worth. The predictable storyline is made up of equal parts lowbrow slapstick and push-button sentimentality, as Joe ultimately sees the errors of his ways and becomes a much better man for his experience.
Though no great shakes as an actor, Johnson has always displayed a certain self-deprecating charm on screen and he uses it to good effect here. As the precocious moppet, Madison Pettis manages to keep the bathos and saccharine down to an acceptable minimum - which is more than can be said for the movie itself, actually, which ladles the syrup on pretty darn thick in the closing stretches.
Nevertheless, this is, I suppose, a tolerable time-waster - provided you're part of the right audience demographic for this sort of thing, that is.