This week we watched the chilling conclusion to the Crocodile Dundrilogy…Crocodile Dundee in Los Angeles. Actually, this film had no business being squeezed out of Paul Hogan’s colostomy bag 13 years after the second movie. The world went the entire length of the 1990’s without Mick Dundee. Who the hell was beating down whose door to get this made?
The first film was an instant classic. Australian redneck Mick Dundee goes to the Big Apple and finds himself in a fish out of water situation every where he turns, but he’s able to charm his way through it with his simple ignorance, a rugged appearance, and a large badass knife. The sequel was surprisingly really good, too. And then you get to part three in L.A. You lost all the timeless 80’s charm and you feel like they were trying to shit out an early 2000’s kids’ movie from Paul Hogan’s constipated and leathered anus. Constipated is probably the correct adjective here because this movie felt so fucking forced into existence. Seriously, the first movie was PG-13 and that’s an 80’s PG-13. Most movies rated PG in the 80’s would be rated R if made these days. The second movie from 1988 was PG, but see the previous sentence. The third movie was PG, but most of the time it felt like it could have been rated G and on the Disney Channel.
For crying out loud, Mick is in his fucking early 60’s in this movie and now they felt it was time to introduce him having a child. This little shit really served as no plot advancement in this movie. If the kid had been edited out of the movie altogether, I seriously doubt any viewer would have felt anything was missing. He only served the purpose of adding kid appeal to the franchise.
The story unfolds with the Dundee family living in the Down Under, but a death at Sue’s dad’s newspaper leaves a vacant job opening that just begs for her to fly to L.A. and fill the dead guy’s shoes until permanently replaced. What a fucking dumb excuse to get the Dundee clan in L.A. The whole small town foreign hillbilly trouncing around the big untamed city story was funny the first time, but it had worn out its comedic welcome by 2001. Nothing new here except for a surprisingly entertaining scene in a Wendy’s drive-thru. As the movie drudged on, we discover that Sue has taken over the role of investigating a shady film studio that’s selling stolen artwork. Yawn. Mick infiltrates the studio incognito and shuts that shit down. The End.
In all honesty, this movie did muster a few laughs, but in the end it was a slap in the balls to the legacy of Dundee.