Tavern On The Green was a fabulous restaurant, gaudy, beautiful place on Central Park West and a fave date place till it closed in 2009 because Mayor Bloomberg wanted to give the rights to one group and the owners to another. Now it is a Visitors center.
So how the hell "Mr. Popper's Penguins" dares to rest upon the fantasy that Jim Carey as the Popper in questions saves the institution from the wrecking ball, is beyond.
I would dislike this smarmy piece of crap for that reason alone but there is much more to dislike about this story of middle aged redemption. Popper is a pretty good guy divorced father of two who seas his kids every other weekend. He makes a good living acquiring property for a company of real estate owners he works for.
Only in Hollywood fantasyland, could this character need redemption. But he does it and gets it on the form of six penguins left to him in his father's will.
What bizarre nonsense. What baffling unappealing weirdness.
Popper becomes completely psychotic, turns his co-op into a refrigerator (are the board deaf and dumb? why didn't they evict him) and suddenly his kids think he is cool.
Complete fantasy but whose fantasy? You got me.
The penguins are cool so I guess there is that.
Musically? Not much. There is a mambo at a party at the Guggenheim, and Gershwin soundalikes every time the camera pulls back to show the city.