For those painfully out of step with what the average pretweener is palpitating over, Fred Figglehorn (played by rapidly aging teenager Lucas Cruikshank) is a supposed stunted boy who acts like a six-year-old with anger management issues and a house full of family dysfunction. Wildly popular on YouTube, the short clip comedy series uses the not so clever device of "speeding" everything up so that Fred's voice and actions resemble Benny Hill by way of Jerry Lewis, both of them pumped full of performanc- enhancing plutonium.
Never one to let a fad go by unfleeced, Hollywood has decided to give the character his own feature length made-for-TV showcase. Released on cable's Nickelodeon to some of the most spectacular ratings ever, Fred: The Movie is all anyone under the age of ten is talking about. Apparently, the children aren't our future after all.
Cruikshank (sans the sped-up gimmickry, but little else) is a hopelessly hyper high-schooler, madly in love with his model-hot next door neighbor, Judy (Pixie Lott). Before he can make his romantic intentions known, however, she up and moves away. Devastating, Fred decides to follow her, though his incredibly weird parents (Siobhan Fallon Hogan and John Cena) are less than accommodating. With some help from the class Goth gal Bertha (Jennette McCurdy) and the constant interference of neighborhood bully Kevin (Jake Weary), our hapless hero prepares to make a dangerous cross-country trek to find his perceived betrothed. In the end, however, it all de-evolves into parties, peer pressure, and that all-important perplexing web presence.
If you thought Drake and Josh was way too sophisticated, if you believe every episode of iCarly reeks of a ridiculous amount of complicated subtext, if you find old episodes of Kenan and Kel soaring majestically over your already confused head, then Fred: The Movie is the answer to your dangerously dumbed-down prayers. Imagine the severest case of ADD meshed with a toddler tripping on pixie sticks and you have a decent idea of how irritatingly out of control this proposed entertainment is. While there is no denying that Figglehorn has an infant-enticing mannerism -- after all, kids love things that are loud, stupid, and aimed directly at their still developing aesthetic -- but beyond such single digit IQ elements, there is nothing else here. Fred's Internet shtick has more depth than this dire excuse for entertainment.
What does it say about Fred: The Movie that Cena shows up in full torso-baring pumped-up wrestler mode to throttle his "son" with some fake body slams? Or how about Hogan, hausfraued and liquored up as Fred's feisty mother? As if creating characters for a single celled organisms idea of a sitcom, writer David A. Goodman (a Family Guy staple -- go figure) and director Clay Weiner pile on the preposterous stereotypes, letting their lead bounce off them like a monkey with electrodes on its "bananas." After the 30 minute mark, we are so used to the narrative's manic approach that we worry when the film actually slows down a bit to struggle with a subplot or two.
But this is really Cruikshank's albatross and he wears it around his pencil neck with pride. This is the culmination of all those annoying YouTube posts, the byproduct of allowing the taste-challenged public (especially those far too young to know better) to dictate artistic merit. On a planet which keeps actual auteurs from making the movies that might change the artform, we instead get a smug little snit who shrieks like a banshee and babbles like a buffoon. At his core, Fred is nothing more than adolescence arrested and completely inert. He's harmless and occasionally stumbles into something semi-amusing. Sadly, the rest of the time he's an assault on your senses.
Never one to let a fad go by unfleeced, Hollywood has decided to give the character his own feature length made-for-TV showcase. Released on cable's Nickelodeon to some of the most spectacular ratings ever, Fred: The Movie is all anyone under the age of ten is talking about. Apparently, the children aren't our future after all.
Cruikshank (sans the sped-up gimmickry, but little else) is a hopelessly hyper high-schooler, madly in love with his model-hot next door neighbor, Judy (Pixie Lott). Before he can make his romantic intentions known, however, she up and moves away. Devastating, Fred decides to follow her, though his incredibly weird parents (Siobhan Fallon Hogan and John Cena) are less than accommodating. With some help from the class Goth gal Bertha (Jennette McCurdy) and the constant interference of neighborhood bully Kevin (Jake Weary), our hapless hero prepares to make a dangerous cross-country trek to find his perceived betrothed. In the end, however, it all de-evolves into parties, peer pressure, and that all-important perplexing web presence.
If you thought Drake and Josh was way too sophisticated, if you believe every episode of iCarly reeks of a ridiculous amount of complicated subtext, if you find old episodes of Kenan and Kel soaring majestically over your already confused head, then Fred: The Movie is the answer to your dangerously dumbed-down prayers. Imagine the severest case of ADD meshed with a toddler tripping on pixie sticks and you have a decent idea of how irritatingly out of control this proposed entertainment is. While there is no denying that Figglehorn has an infant-enticing mannerism -- after all, kids love things that are loud, stupid, and aimed directly at their still developing aesthetic -- but beyond such single digit IQ elements, there is nothing else here. Fred's Internet shtick has more depth than this dire excuse for entertainment.
What does it say about Fred: The Movie that Cena shows up in full torso-baring pumped-up wrestler mode to throttle his "son" with some fake body slams? Or how about Hogan, hausfraued and liquored up as Fred's feisty mother? As if creating characters for a single celled organisms idea of a sitcom, writer David A. Goodman (a Family Guy staple -- go figure) and director Clay Weiner pile on the preposterous stereotypes, letting their lead bounce off them like a monkey with electrodes on its "bananas." After the 30 minute mark, we are so used to the narrative's manic approach that we worry when the film actually slows down a bit to struggle with a subplot or two.
But this is really Cruikshank's albatross and he wears it around his pencil neck with pride. This is the culmination of all those annoying YouTube posts, the byproduct of allowing the taste-challenged public (especially those far too young to know better) to dictate artistic merit. On a planet which keeps actual auteurs from making the movies that might change the artform, we instead get a smug little snit who shrieks like a banshee and babbles like a buffoon. At his core, Fred is nothing more than adolescence arrested and completely inert. He's harmless and occasionally stumbles into something semi-amusing. Sadly, the rest of the time he's an assault on your senses.
