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Over the years, Saturday Night Live has morphed from a
relevant showcase for up-and-coming comedic talent and occasionally biting satire into a
development laboratory for producer Lorne Michaels' SNL Studios film division. The pattern
is now firmly established: A one-dimensional character with a few easily imitated
catchphrases is introduced in a sketch that exhausts all its comic possibilities in the
first three minutes of its five minute running time. The character then returns week after
week in painfully protracted reiterations of the original sketch. SNL fans chatting
around the water cooler or at their local bar drive the catchphrases into the ground. When
the time is ripe - i.e., when no sane person could possibly sit through even one more
minute of the character's exhausted antics - the feature film version of the sketch hits
theaters. It's a bizarre formula for success, and indeed many of the SNL spinoffs
have been DOA at the box office. However, they're cheap to make and apparently enough of
them are profitable to allow the franchise to continue.
Which brings us to The Ladies Man. Following in the footsteps of
Superstar's nerdy Catholic schoolgirl and A Night at the Roxbury's nerdy head-shaking guys,
longtime SNL stalwart Tim Meadows brings his nerdy sex machine to the big screen.
As with its predecessors, there's really no reason for the movie to exist. It's thinly
conceived and conspicuously padded, but the underrated Meadows has certainly put in his
time (better him than the execrable Goat Boy) and the results are cheerful enough.
Meadows stars as Leon Phelps, host of the overnight radio call-in show
"The Ladies Man." The sweet-natured but smutty-mouthed Leon dispenses advice to
the lovelorn in a Mike Tyson lisp and garbled syntax far removed from the mellifluous
baritone associated with love gods of yore. (See the collected works of Barry White.) Leon's callers tend to hang up in anger or
frustration, since the Ladies Man rarely listens to what they actually say ("That
sounds good" is his patented catchphrase, delivered in response to even the most dire
expressions of heartbreak) and his advice often revolves around anal sex as cure-all. When
one FCC violation too many pushes Leon over the line, he and his producer Julie (Karyn
Parsons) are fired by the station manager (Eugene Levy, in an uninspired change of pace).
Leon retreats to his two primary hangouts: Lester's Straight-Up Lounge,
his neighborhood bar, and the Skanktuary, his houseboat (which resembles a cross between a
70's pimp den and Pee Wee's Playhouse). At Lester's he hooks up with a fine lady who
invites him back to her place, but his booty call is interrupted when her husband returns
early. Vowing revenge, the cuckold joins a vigilante group comprised of similarly wronged
men headed by Greco-Roman wrestling enthusiast Lance (Will Ferrell). The VSA - or Victims
of the Smiling Ass - are determined to track down the man who's slept with all their
wives. A man identified only by the smiley face tattoo on his right buttock. Yes, the
Ladies Man.
Alas, while this narrative clearly rivals the works of Victor Hugo in
its scope and breadth, it's still not sufficient to fill out an eighty minute running
time. Some of the filler - a musical number performed by the VSA, for instance - is
enjoyable enough, but an extended gross-out sequence involving increasingly inedible bar
food, from pickled eggs to hog balls, bears the stench of desperation. Still, though his
character's possibilities are pretty much expended by the time the opening credits are
over, Meadows remains a likable presence throughout. His Leon is so delighted with himself
and so blissfully unaware of his own foolishness, he makes even the weakest material
relatively painless to sit through. Fellow SNL-er Will Ferrell does his best with
another one-joke character, while Billy Dee Williams sends up his smooth-as-Colt-45 image
as bar proprietor Lester and Tiffani Thiessen provides five minutes worth of eye candy as
one of Leon's old flames.
Calling The Ladies Man one of the least grating Saturday
Night Live movies may be the most tepid praise imaginable, but that's the best it's
going to get. The depressing thing is, by the time this one hits video stores en route to
its final resting place on late night cable, Lorne Michaels will no doubt have inflicted
yet another piece of assembly line comedy product upon us. Earlier this year, press
reports made Mike Myers out to be a kook for pulling the plug on his own SNL
spinoff, Dieter. From this vantage point, he looks more like a hero.
- Scott Von Doviak