Grand-Daddy Day Care (2019) is mildly amusing at times. It is a bit predictable and formulaic. Its faults are often more easily recognized than its virtues. Unfortunately, it often seems to shoot itself in the foot by emphasizing political correctitude over humor.
Frank (Reno Wilson) is an African-American married to Hispanic-American Emma (Roxana Ortega), which provides an element of politically-correct, socially-aware diversity and inclusion, as well as comedic and dramatic opportunities for conflict over cultural differences. But these aren't explored. The current Hollywood ethos demands that characters be interchangeable. James Bond doesn't need to be Scottish or even British, Anglo-Saxon or male. He could be a black female. But interchangeable characters tend to be shallow. Filmmakers seem to think audiences want diversity, rather than complex, three-dimensional characters and seem loath to suggest any conflicts arising out of cultural differences, as that might be perceived as demeaning one culture or the other.
Emma's father Eduardo (movie tough guy Danny Trejo) never approved of Frank and thought he wasn't good enough for his daughter, but the reasons are left vague. The characters aren't given any challenge to overcome. Instead, the conflict is minimized by saying that every father feels that way - it's nothing personal. Besides, Eduardo secretly admires Frank. But this also minimizes the potential for drama and comedy.
Frank's son Jordan (Anthony Gonzalez) is enamored with classmate Annie (Jayden Bartels) who seems to be the most beautiful girl at school. Jordan is awkward, insecure, awkward and inexperienced. Annie is popular, talented, outgoing and inexplicably unattached, but interested in Jordan for reasons that are not at all clear. Again, rather than developing conflicts for comedic potential, they are ignored or minimized. Yes, she is interested, but her concept of a steamy relationship seems to be hanging out together while maintaining an appropriate physical separation and discussing nothing at all while staring off into space contemplating the wonderfulness of inclusion riders.
It's distressing to think this might represent the future of comedy in a society more concerned with political correctitude and not triggering snowflakes than making people laugh at the differences that simultaneously separate and unite us. John Vorhaus defines comedy as truth and pain. Grand-Daddy Day Care seems determined to avoid pain. But in so doing, it also avoids truth. We're given shallow two-dimensional caricatures rather than fully-developed characters. But aren't they diverse?
