Dirty Grandpa Movie Info:
Uptight lawyer Jason Kelly (Zac Efron) is one week away from marrying his boss’s controlling daughter, putting him on the fast track for a partnership at his firm. Tricked by his grandfather Dick (Robert De Niro), Jason finds himself driving the foulmouthed old man to Daytona Beach, Fla., for a wild spring break that includes frat parties, bar fights and an epic night of karaoke. While Jason worries about the upcoming wedding, Dick tries to show his grandson how to live life to the fullest.
Initial release: January 21, 2016 (Brazil)
Director: Dan Mazer
Screenplay: John Phillips
Music composed by: Michael Andrews
Producers: Barry Josephson, Bill Block, Michael Simkin, Jason Barrett
Dirty Grandpa : A couple of weeks ago I had the strangest dream. I dreamed that this movie, “Dirty Grandpa,” was the talk of the nation. Not because the Robert De Niro/Zac Efron/Aubrey Plaza raunch comedy was particularly good, but because, apparently—I didn’t see any of the movie in my dream, just had conversations with people about it—it didn’t do that thing that studio-produced-raunch comedies do, which is take things so far and no further. No. In my dream, “Dirty Grandpa” was spinning heads because it broached John Waters/Harmony Korine levels of outrageousness. The sex scenes between De Niro and Plaza had a “Last Tango In Paris” level of explicitness, for instance.
Now you just have to take my word for it that I had this dream, but honestly, I did. The question is WHY did I have this dream. As the author of a book on De Niro, I’m frequently (okay, not that frequently, but more often than would be the case for a guy who hadn’t written a book on De Niro) asked what I make of his various career moves. So maybe the dream speaks to my critical desire to see De Niro go back to surprising his audiences with audacious performances. Or maybe I’m just a perv who wants to see Aubrey Plaza naked. I don’t know. The weird thing is, although the non-oneiric “Dirty Grandpa” does not feature Aubrey Plaza naked (although she gets closer than one might have expected), the movie is, as in my dream, a genuine envelope-pusher. Its crudity is relentless. The subjects of its indifferently crafted and callously executed jokes include roofie-ing, crack smoking, child molestation, jailhouse rape, graphic depictions of penises in the shape of a swastika being displayed to a rabbi, and more. The sort of thing you might expect in a John Waters or Harmony Korine film.
Only in a John Waters or Harmony Korine film the jokes might be funny, or pointed. Here they are not. Early in the film’s road trip, De Niro’s horny patriarch is trying to charm some ladies on a golf course; on being stymied by uptight soon-to-be-married lawyer grandson Efron, he responds with a panoply of puns based on the term, if you’ll excuse it, “cock blocker.” “Who does your taxes, H. and R. Cockblock?” De Niro asks Efron. He continues by making a salacious play on the name “Jack Nicklaus,” putting a D where the N customarily is. Because they’re at a golf course, get it? That De Niro delivers these moronic japes with gusto, even vehemence, does not improve them.