I have a bone to pick with you. Your film, DEUCE BIGALOW: MALE GIGOLO, contained many errors, inaccuracies, and flat-out falsehoods that I almost don't know where to begin. For starters, the box cover claims that DEUCE is "the funniest movie of the season!" Which may be true, but without any clear indication of which season we're speaking of (Christmas season, mid- to late-October 1971, "wabbit season"), it is impossible to make any sort of judgment of the claim. Nor does the box give us contact information for Mark S. Allen of UPN-TV -- an e-mail address would have sufficed! -- who supplied the quote. For all we know, he could be the janitor. Or worse, an anchor.

Wait, does UPN even do news?

Regardless, we haven't even gotten to the film and we're already off to a bad start. The film itself doesn't begin much better, with Rob Schneider, as the title character, getting kicked out of a public aquarium for public exposure. As anyone knows, when you attempt such a stunt, Los Angeles criminal code section 314 clearly states that you are sent to jail, not merely ejected from the premises with a stern warning. I suppose it is possible to ignore that glaring inaccuracy, but it doesn't stop there. In the very next scene, Deuce goes to a pet store to obtain sea snails. For what, we never learn, but in the process of getting them for him, the young lady working behind the counter gets her t-shirt so wet that you can see her nippular area and doesn't even notice! I mean, really! How dumb do you think we are? All the women I've seen who get their shirts so wet that you can make out their anatomy are clearly aware of what's going on, and what's more, seem so genuinely excited at the phenomenon that they eagerly shake their torsos and engage in indecent acts with other damp young ladies in the general vicinity. In your film, the clerk fails to engage in any lewd acts at all!

Furthermore, the film is rife with scientific inaccuracies as well. The entire plot of the film hinges on Deuce accidentally tipping over a massive, 100-gallon fish tank. As any schoolchild knows, one gallon of water weighs 8.3453 pounds, which requires us to believe an 834-pound tank can somehow be tipped over by the 5'3", 103 lb. Schneider. Even factoring in sudden winds, irregularities in the earth's rotation, and adrenaline brought on by Rob's baby being trapped under the tank, you can see that this is highly unlikely.

In order to make back his money, Deuce reluctantly turns to prostitution. His clientele consists entirely of the handicapped: the humorously obese, the humorously tall, that disease where you hilariously yell obscenities at passing old people. And yet Deuce never actually has sex with any of these seemingly desperate women. Would this not make him more of an escort than a gigolo? Admittedly, "Deuce Bigalow: Male Escort" doesn't have the same ring to it as your title does, but what's stopping you from renaming him "Deuce Voldemort"? Not only would you have a more accurate title, but you would also tap into the highly lucrative Harry Potter market. Okay, so the film would require major rewrites to classify as even marginally appropriate for young children. For one, all of the dialogue would have to go. Also, you would have to lose the entire plot, all of the scenes, and all of the characters, except perhaps the waiter who brings Deuce and his date water in one scene. Why not write a nice movie about a little girl who has a pet monkey, and they have crazy adventures, like going to a restaurant where they order water from a nice waiter? Except that loses the whole "Harry Potter" angle, so why not give the monkey magical powers, like the ability to walk through walls and poop candy? No? Fair enough.

What if we lost the candy poop angle? Still no? All right.

How about this: Instead of being an incompetent man-whore, Rob Schneider plays a clone on the run from a government agency intent upon creating an army of exact duplicates of their most fearsome soldier. And, for the purposes of this film, Schneider will be played by Vin Diesel. Rob himself can make a cameo as a waiter who brings Vin some water right before government agents burst in and start crapping candy. Really? No again? Man, you people apparently hate making gobs of money, don't you?

But this brings me to my central point: People love monkeys and/or government agents that crap candy. If you could somehow get those monkeys to work for the CIA, you may as well have a license to print money. That's all I'm saying.

Also, this movie didn't have enough naked women on roller skates.

Sincerely,

Patrick Keller

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