Isn't it a little early in The Rock's screen career to be going for the cuddly Kindergarten Cop moves of family entertainment? I preferred it when he was just bashing heads in Walking Tall.
Here he plays a moronic NFL superstar drowning in self-love when a precocious eight-year-old shows up on the penthouse doorstep claiming to be his daughter. Cue a painful re-evaluation of priorities as the narcissistic jock swaps football for ballet, and a sports car for a station wagon. Painful, that is, for the audience, obliged to swallow this family-values schmaltz without barfing. Somewhere, another Hollywood exec's guilt is being assuaged for not spending more time at home.