Crocodile Dundee in Los Angeles Reviews

More than a decade after the dreadful CROCODILE DUNDEE II, Australian phenomenon Paul Hogan (who in recent years has been reduced to shilling for Subaru SUVs) returns with what feels like a feature-length vanity project. Crocodile hunter Mick Dundee (Hogan) and former big-city girl Sue Charlton (Linda Kozlowski, Hogan's wife) are happily ensconced in the Australian outback and the proud parents of eight-year-old Mikey (Serge Cockburn). True, crocodiles are a protected species and have to be captured alive rather than killed, but Mick's a philosophical guy. If there were no more crocs, he'd be hunting wild pigs, and who wants to be called Porker Dundee? And his macho-man antics are mostly for the benefit of tourists, but hey — it's the 21st century, even if he has to be gently reminded of the fact. Then Sue gets a call from her dad, a bigshot West Coast newspaper magnate. One of his bureau chiefs has been killed under suspicious circumstances; would Sue be willing to fill in until he hires a suitable replacement? So the family packs up and moves into the Charlton mansion in Beverly Hills, where Mick and his scruffy friend Jacko (Alec Wilson) are besieged by L.A. women desperate to meet a real man while doing their "wide-eyed hicks in the big city" thing, marveling innocently at tall buildings (though Mick has seen taller — he's been to New York, you know), crowded freeways, designer water and the generally wacky ways of Angelinos. Sue, meanwhile, picks up investigating where her late predecessor left off — what is the real story behind Silvergate Studios, an upstart company with a dire balance sheet and suspicious connections in Eastern Europe? The script (mostly by Hogan himself, who lost out on credit because he was also a producer) pokes anemic fun at Hollywood mores, L.A. pretension and wussy American ways (though Mick and Jacko do think the Wendy's drive-through is the eighth wonder of the world), and features cameo appearances by George Hamilton, who explains the benefits of coffee colonics, and Mike Tyson, who teaches Mick and Mikey how to meditate. Hogan's trademark charm is intact (even though at 61, he's more leathery than ever), but charm can only smooth over so many warmed-over gags and insipid action sequences.