When actors get honored, it's sometimes tempting to contemplate alternate versions of the highlight reels that precede their awards. Imagine, for instance, a collection of Anthony Hopkins clips that put the emphasis on his work in Bad Company and Instinct, or a collection of Bette Davis moments drawn only from Wicked Stepmother and The Watcher In The Woods. Hard-working actors are cursed to end up in dreadful films as often as grand ones—just ask Michael Caine—but anyone assembling a collection of from-hell moments for Tommy Lee Jones could pretty much limit their search to Man Of The House. It opens with a scene of Jones retrieving a cell phone from a cow's ass (the phone, incidentally, has a "Can't Touch This" ringtone) and it takes only a slightly more dignified turn from there.
Jones stars as a crusty Texas Ranger who broods about his relationship with his mildly estranged daughter, when he isn't tracking down criminals. When five cheerleaders, each with a single defining personality trait, witness an execution, he takes on the unusual assignment of going undercover as a cheerleading coach in order to protect them. Soon, Jones is shopping for tampons, bonding with the girls over ABBA at a skating rink, and—oh, the humanity!—receiving makeovers that require close-ups of his nose hairs.
Four writers take credit for Man Of The House's story and screenplay. Perhaps they all stumbled on the same Walker, Texas Ranger wastebasket at the same time. But make no mistake: This is a film by director Stephen Herek, of Rock Star and Mr. Holland's Opus fame. The credits say as much, and the slapdash, that'll-do direction confirms it. The highlights, or at least breaks from the tedium, come from Cedric The Entertainer. When he challenges the squad to a cheer-off wearing a too-tight cowboy outfit, it's not exactly funny, but it's easy to admire his commitment to the part. Jones' role, on the other hand, only requires him to look embarrassed at all times, which shouldn't have been too hard to pull off, considering the circumstances. Is that what they call "method" acting?