Deuce is an aquarium cleaner/caretaker who makes a housecall to a gigolo Antoine who asks him to watch over his tank while he's away. Deuce accidentally breaks the tank and is in a bind as to how he will pay for it. Antoine's sleazy pimp shows up and recruits Deuce to work for him to earn big bucks. Deuce agrees and soon he is set up with the oddest female clients, Kate, an amputee with a fake leg (who he falls in love with), a girl with Tourette's, an overweight lady, a super tall woman, and a narcoleptic. Deuce never has sex with them but instead gives them emotional fulfillment, which the girls love even more. Meanwhile, Deuce and Kate date, without her knowing that he was hired by her friends just for fun. Kate doesn't know that Deuce is a gigolo, so when she finds out, she breaks up with him. Also, Deuce is being trailed by a cop who wants him jailed, but when it is revealed that Deuce never solicited sex for money, he is cleared on charges. When Antoine comes back, Deuce replaces the tank, but it breaks again. Deuce's gigolo secret is found out and Antoine tries to kill him, but Deuce is saved by one of his clients in the nick of time. Antoine is arrested for prostitution, Kate takes Deuce back and marries him.
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Best part of story, including ending:
Deuce who is not attractive, makes up for this by being a funny, sensitive guy to the women. He becomes very crafty in his ways to "please" them.
Best scene in story:
When Deuce first meets his clients, he is horrified.
Opinion about the main character:
He is a simple guy who just wants to make things right, and to do that, he gets stuck in the most oddball situations.
Why is it everyone who has ever held a spot on Saturday Night Live gets to make an least one movie, no matter how miserably-written or insipid the end-product roll of celluloid fundament-wipe they give us? Except in the cases of Eddie Murphy, Mike Myers, Bill Murray, and a select others (who are now either dead or close-to-dead), most of alumni of SNL produce a fetid exhalation for a brief moment, like their fame, and not-quickly-enough fade into the ether from which their fame-mongering, talentless lives sprang. I guess Rob Schneider, who can't fade fast enough, thinks this burst of cinematic brilliance will rival Ace Ventura, since it copies its formula so closely.
I'm not going to pretend for a minute that I liked this movie or attempt to feign subtlety. This movie is as subtle on the senses as Marlon Brando wearing a day-glo thong...and trying to act like this drivel could even remotely pass as entertainment is worse than kicking my mother down a flight of stairs on her birthday. Let's take a look at this car-wreck of a movie.
The movie stars Rob Schneider, of Saturday Night Live, and Men Behaving Badly, as a career tropical fish tank cleaner. He's so inept in love, that he has to buy some sea snails just in the hope that the girl behind the counter at the fish store will dip her T-shirt into the tank. When Deuce sees a handsome stud named Antoine (Oded Fehr, The Mummy) with a hot babe, he is filled with envy, especially when he finds out the babe is paying the stud, who is a gigolo.
Many "plot" complications result. These "plot" complications are about as challenging to the intellect as watching paint dry. The fearsome gigolo hires the doe-eyed, innocuous tank-cleaner to baby-sit his valuable fish while he goes to Switzerland. Being the predictably slow-witted loser that he is, Deuce, of course, breaks the fish tank into a million pieces one day accidentally. Now, Deuce has three weeks to make everything right before Antoine comes home. Where's he going to get the scratch to fix the tank? A phone call from one of Antoine's lusty clients provides a way out, and before you can sing along with the first line of Blondie's Call Me, Deuce's professional life makes an emergency turn toward the gigolo's trade. He is well-advised by a pimp, who is an expert on what the movie calls (only about a million times) man-whores. Enough of the lurching Schneider and his male-fantasy impossibilities! Schneider is as charismatic as a post and has the acting ability of a tree stump.
From this dismal juncture, the plot takes on a handful of predictable set pieces as T.J. Hicks (played by Eddie Griffith), Antoine's pimp, sets Deuce up with women who are too tall, too heavy, carry sleep disorders or are given to stupid outbursts. Yet, despite the suspicions of an exhibitionist LAPD detective (ever-mumbling and waddling William Forsythe), Deuce doesn't actually do anything with the women except tend to their insecurities the way he tends to sick fish. Only Kate (Arija Bareikis), who seems perfectly normal, makes him want to do more than "just talk." (What would you guess the chances are that she later finds out he was paid for their first date and gets mad at him?) Oooh, the suspense.
There is a scene where Deuce the gigolo dates a woman so gigantic that her feet are almost too large for him to massage. I mean these are seriously large feet! Now, this would be funny...if I'd just had a frontal lobotomy, or if I were 15-years old. My earwax is more interesting than this kind of asinine condescension.
There is another scene where a pimp lectures Deuce on his place in the gigolo food chain. It is an illustrated lecture, with three varieties of tropical fish discussed as the visual aids. Deuce is not like the rare imported fish or even the beautiful domestic fish, but the bottom-feeding scavenger, down there with the plastic scuba diver. This isn't funny either. In fact, Clint Eastwood said almost the exact same dialogue in Sudden Impact, which must've came out almost ten years ago.
Not for nothing is Deuce's dad a washroom attendant. This movie belongs on the floor of a washroom, or in the bottom of a toilet. The jokes amount to a series of skits that carry you down into a long, dull slog, that even by current SNL standards is abysmal excrement. The "plot" demonstrates what people will do for money, and does this horrendous, shameful movie. One of my favorite words is "gardyloo." The word refers to a cry formerly used in Edinburgh, to warn passers-by to beware of slop being thrown out of a window. It's actually a real word, however seldom used. Deuce Bigelow: Male Gigolo is a movie so stinking of someone's unwashed cheese-toes, that it is hard to accept as real. It's real alright, and let my review be your gardyloo.
The review of this Movie prepared by David Somerfleck