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user content provided by: LikeMe.net & Houston Press
  • Genre: Drama
  • Release Date: 08/21/2009
  • Running Time: 98 mins
  • Director: Bobcat Goldthwait
  • Cast: Robin Williams, Daryl Sabara, Alexie Gilmore, Geoffrey Pierson, Henry Simmons, Mitzi McCall, Tom Kenny, Toby Huss
  • Producer: Tim Perell, Howard Gertler, Sean McKittrick, Richard Kelly
  • Writer: Bobcat Goldthwait
  • Distributor: Magnolia Pictures
  • Offical Site: Click Here
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Box Office

  1. Dear John, 32.4 mil, 32.4 mil
  2. Avatar, 23.6 mil, 630.1 mil
  3. From Paris With Love, 8.1 mil, 8.1 mil
  4. Edge of Darkness, 7.0 mil, 29.1 mil
  5. The Tooth Fairy, 6.5 mil, 34.3 mil
  6. When in Rome, 5.5 mil, 20.9 mil
  7. The Book of Eli, 4.8 mil, 82.2 mil
  8. Crazy Heart, 3.6 mil, 11.2 mil
  9. Legion, 3.4 mil, 34.6 mil
  10. Sherlock Holmes, 2.6 mil, 201.6 mil
Movie Title, Weekly Earnings, Total Earnings

World's Greatest Dad

Playing dark, Robin Williams has developed the burly insecurity and gargoyle frown of damned Edward G. Robinson in Fritz Lang’s Scarlet Street—with World’s Greatest Dad, he almost has the movie to match. Lance (Williams) is an unpublished serial novelist and an unpopular poetry teacher at the same high school attended by the son, Kyle (Daryl Sabara), he is raising alone, who incarnates every nightmare of downloaded premature debauchery, a physical virgin and Caligula of the mind. Sabara, whose few scenes of abject irredeemability leave a lingering stain on the movie, is point man for a perfect-fit cast, with the standouts including his lone, sallow school friend Evan Martin, and Henry Simmons as an alpha-male teacher and unflattering contrast to Lance. The particular stew of midlife and pubescent despair that clogs a single-father male-child household has rarely been achieved so well: Lance’s parental tough love is a trailed-off “Ahh . . .” The details of leftover dinosaur-themed wallpaper (unnoticed as it peels) and the dirty sneaker prints on the glove compartment are enough to convince that screenwriter-director Bobcat Goldthwait knows his stuff. His cringer lands improbably on its feet after every reckless plot turn—involving autoerotic asphyxiation and fraudulent authorship—all the way until an over-fondness for music montage fells it in the last reel. — Nick Pinkerton