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user\n\"There are some things you just don't do\" so says the tag-line of this, a 2003 David Zucker comedy about a young man caught up in one horrendous situation after another entitled My Boss's Daughter, and it's the tag-line which should speak for both the people that made this junk as well as those contemplating watching it. There are indeed some things you just don't do, with the placing of mostly all of the sort of content to be found within My Boss's Daughter counting as wholly items you just should not do to the medium of cinema by including them in your picture. My Boss's Daugther is a sordid; creepy; grotesque experience, a clunky and heavy handed piece which is infantile beyond words and disgusting beyond expression. To see it is to endure it, to endure it is to survive it and to survive it is an accomplishment all by itself  if any of the cast; writers; extras; Hell, even the guys that worked as runners on the set, aid in producing anything as Earth-shatteringly poor as this again, then it'll be either because they've been sent here by the devil Himself to destroy the medium of film or, it'll be because they've most probably garnered employment on behalf of the Friedberg/Seltzer mob.
My Boss's Daugther, (which I'm pretty sure ought to be titled \"My Boss' Daugther\", grammatically speaking), revolves around its hapless male lead, named Tom Stansfield (Kutcher), and a night in at his boss' house as he chases that seemingly elusive 'goal' that is his young, blonde daughter Lisa Taylor (Reid) - someone whom works within the same department as he does in a towering Chicago office block whilst under the strict eye of Jack Taylor (Stamp). Tom spies Lisa early on, she's taking the subway to work with all the other shmos despite the fact she owns a car and that her father is the boss of the damn company. After trying to talk to her, but having his attempts foiled by a puking baby and a dog for the blind more interested in Tom's crotch than anything else, he finally gets his chance in the office when talk of an after-dark party elsewhere arises and that he ought to come round to her house to visit her - and yes, she does still live with her father. Think Hitchcock's 1960 film Psycho with the gender roles between Norman Bates and his mother reversed and then played for laughs.
The distinct establishment of character is made painfully apparent in the opening scene in which Tom sits on the subway train and travels to work with his yuppie cohorts. They are a ruthless and smarmy bunch, whom it's made apparent swipe the briefcases of those unfortunate enough to get them stuck in the door in the ensuing morning rush, without ever returning them. One day it happens with Tom there, and his wish is to return it, thus pounding into us that he's-not-like-other-guys(!) This, as he first sees Lisa down the carriage and is somewhat shy to approach her as the other men treat the whole situation as if it would be a breeze if they were in his position. This rather obvious and flat-footed attempt to try and get us to 'side' with Tom sits uneasily with what it supposedly takes to earn a place amidst these co-workers in this company.
It is, however, as close as My Boss's Daughter comes to any level of film-making. From a seemingly harmless premise of a boy meeting a girl and wanting to get to know her arrives the comedy from Hell. Tom's arriving at the house will not see him invited to the party, instead he is charged with house sitting Jack's pet owl and generally keeping out of mischief whilst maintaining a spotless house. It's been established Terrance Stamp's character means business in the strictest of manners, firing people for the smallest of things such as the making of a bad cup of coffee. It's not that Jack is a shrewed businessman, he's a cleanliness freak; obsessed with control and a borderline sociopath in his placings of bear traps in the garden so as to keep the children next door off his land. You can imagine, that when we're let into his large and exquisite house with the orders that nothing should go wrong, there's obviously going to be trouble.
The film has fun with this premise of danger for about ten minutes. The first time someone uses the worktop to crack open a beer thus marking the pristine top, you may smirk, but by the time half the house is wrecked and Michael Madsen has shown up urinating all over the rug, you've got your head in your hands. Each joke in the film is set up in an almighty clunky manner before it is played out in a way that is closer to slow and excruciating than slick and faultless, the only thing missing as it follows through to the next gag is the sound effect of someone incorrectly changing the gears to a car as it clunks and creaks onto the next pratfall. Inbetween the gross-out wackiness, the film takes time to roll down a route of yucky, saccharine driven romance as Lisa and Tom bond whilst talking of in-workplace and out-of workplace persona's, and that maybe they have more in common than first thought. By the hour mark, the film's opted for gross out gags and hate filled jibes more than anything when there's an entire scene that exists purely to target paraplegics and a dumb subplot to do with a head-injury sporting neighbour on a blind date in which some truly unwatchable sight gags are unfolded. Throughout, Stamp's character enjoys putting people down and asking if the simplest of tasks are too difficult for them, to which the common-place reply ought to be whilst channeling Jack Taylor: was reading the screenplay first too complicated-a concept for you, Stamp?
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