Sometimes you know what you're getting into just by reading the title of the movie. Something tells me the one other person attending my screening of Who's Your Caddy must have somehow missed it. About halfway through the movie, I heard him shout quite loudly "I've had it with this crap!" through the empty theater. I turned around, and saw him get up out of his seat and walk out the door, never to come back. I wanted to do the same thing, only much sooner than he did. But, dear reader, I decided to soldier on so that you would know better than this man not to spend your money on this movie.

The tagline for Who's Your Caddy proclaims that we're going to see a battle that centers on "the street vs. the elite". Whoever came up with this tagline obviously never saw the movie, because at one point, we learn that the hero was never raised on the streets. It was just a gimmick image for his rap career. So, right off the bat, the movie's poster doesn't even know what its talking about. I imagine when this movie was pitched to the studio, it was sold as a "Caddyshack for black urban audiences". If only this movie had the ability to conjure up memories of that classic comedy. This is more like Caddyshack II for black urban audiences. It even goes so far as to steal a couple plot points from that inferior sequel. If the filmmakers can't even steal from the right movie, you know you're in trouble. This is a movie that I couldn't wait for it to end, and when it was finally over, I had a hard time forcing myself to sit down and sort out my thoughts. But, once again, I will soldier on and do my best to describe what is easily the worst film of the year, knocking down the previous title holder, Norbit.

The hero of our story is a multi-millionaire rapper named C-Note (Antwon "Big Boi" Patton from the group Outkast). C-Note's father was not only a caddy at an exclusive country club, but was also one of the best men to ever play the game. But, because of the color of his skin, he was never accepted. (Funny, that never stopped Tiger Woods.) C-Note wants to live the dream his father never did, so he gathers up his posse of obnoxious and crude friends, and forces his way onto a private country club, demanding that he wants an application for membership. The club is run by a rich snob with the great rich snob name of Mr. Cummings (Jeffrey Jones, who looks like he's longing for his Howard the Duck days throughout the movie). Cummings immediately wants nothing to do with C-Note and his friends, and hires a powerful female lawyer named Shannon (Tamala Jones) to help him get rid of them. (No prizes for guessing that Shannon will eventually fall in love with C-Note.) The plot creaks on, and C-Note buys a big mansion near the country club, so that a small part of the golf course belongs to him. He starts shooting his rap videos right there on the course itself in order to tick off the snobs, and force them to make him a member. Cummings gives in, but is secretly using Shannon to get some dirt on him. Eventually, every member of the club falls in love with the crude antics of the rapper and his friends, there's a big game at the end where C-Note gets to go up against Cummings, and prove to everyone that his father was the greatest player in the history of the sport.

I'm sorry if I'm spoiling the plot, but quite frankly, there's no plot to spoil. Who's Your Caddy is a collection of plot and racial caricature cliches looking for a story to inhabit. Everything that's expected to happen does happen, but the movie never gives any reason for them to happen. They just do. For example, it's only natural that the rich snobs at the golf course would soon turn their favor over to C-Note and his friends. This supposedly happens when we're not looking, because one minute they hate them, and the very next scene, they're cheering them on and rocking out with them to rap music. Even the relationship that builds between C-Note and Cummings' lawyer seems to come without sense or reason. Not only does the movie forget to give a reason for the characters to like the hero, it forgets to give us a reason as well. C-Note frequently comes across as a scheming, obnoxious lout, and his friends come across as being even worse. We're supposed to root for the guy because he's playing for the memory of his father, and wants to expose Cummings as the cheat that he is. But wait, C-Note cheats too! Late in the film, there's a big polo match between C-Note and Cummings, and one of the hero's friends drugs Cummings' horse before the game. This is a movie where everyone is impossible to like. His friends are the kind of people who let loose thunderous farts that rumble on the soundtrack for a good minute or so, and stand naked in the public restroom as they shave. Somehow, these people win the affection of Cummings' 14-year-old son (played by the 31-year-old Andy Milonakis), and in thanks, C-Note and his friends take him to a strip club, and teach him the proper way to slap a woman's behind.

I have become increasingly depressed by movies like this. Movies that wallow in negative black stereotypes, and try to pass them off as being something good. Much like Norbit, this is a movie that revels in racial caricatures to the point that it resembles less a movie and more of a modern day Minstrel Show. You would think that black artists would be the first to be trying to get rid of these cliches, not embracing them and building entire screenplays around them. And yet, I think they do it because they know it sells. After all, Norbit was a hit last February. Do people still find this kind of stuff amusing? Do they firmly believe that movies built to target urban audiences should feature actors (white and black) playing nothing but rappers, street people, pimps, whores, convicts, and gangsters? Did director and head screenwriter Don Michael Paul (Half Past Dead) laugh when he was writing down scenes where C-Note's friends scream at people about being racist, even though the person they're yelling at didn't say anything at all? It boggles my mind that such a dated and offensive screenplay can not only be greenlit by a major studio, but can have some talented people involved behind it too. Queen Latifah is credited as one of the executive producers of this film, meaning she must have seen something in it, and wants to support these kind of images.
Who's Your Caddy is just a depressing experience in itself, and is probably the worst time I've had at a theater in a very long time. It did not make me laugh or even crack anything resembling a smile. It made me angry, it made me annoyed, and it made me try to think of creative ways I could turn back time and prevent myself from seeing it. But it did not make me laugh. Funny that it can accomplish all that I listed previously, but it can't do a simple thing such as eliciting joy from its viewer. When it was over, I didn't even stay around for the bloopers and additional scenes that started to play during the ending credits. I just wanted to join the guy who walked out earlier as soon as possible.

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