Mr. Nanny

Cross Uncle Buck with Home Alone, stir in the Hulkster, and you've got Mr. Nanny, a gonzo comedy-actioner that should entertain the under-12 and couch-potato sets.

In a year that saw everyone from Burt Reynolds to Michael J. Fox to Schwarzenegger himself handcuffed to six-year-old sidekicks in high-concept cartoons, one could do worse than to exploit the image of a professional wrestler forced to play mom. That said, Mr. Nanny is of little interest to any audience other than pre-teens of all ages.

A leaden business from start to finish, and the film's stars, plus Hemsley as Hogan's lively sidekick, David Johansen as the crazed villain of the piece and Mother Love as Pendleton's feisty cook, can't overcome Gottlieb's shortcomings. [11 Oct 1993, p.F3]

Mr. Nanny is certainly harmless, even though Hogan acts as if he's stumbled onto the set of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. But only the most gullible 4-year-old will get a rise from the lifeless direction of co-writer Michael Gottlieb, whose earlier Mannequin provided a similar dose of moviegoing torture. [09 Oct 1993, p.C3]

An American wrestling champ with two or three films under his belt, Hogan has an unusual combination of assets: brawn and an authentic American accent. He doesn't take himself too seriously either, which could prove his downfall - that and excruciating movies like this.

Mr. Nanny isn't entertainment; it's an exercise in masochism.

The plot in Mr. Nanny is flimsy, mostly tenuous excuses for making Hogan kiss a doll or sing a lullaby or dress in purple leotards and pink tutu while whomping on the bad guys. But so many things in the story make so little sense that you have to ask yourself why the people involved in the project weren't asking themselves more questions from the get-go.