"All some animals have ever known is a life of constant abuse."-- Roberta Flack, aging out of transcendent range
Ever reliable Billy Bob. To the extent that dwarfism is representative of industry conventions, Tony Cox adds an additional layer within Bad Santa, particularly juxtaposed against John Ritter's deliberately colorless attitude being caught off guard, made to look bad when he is simply invested in upholding a modicum of decency. (Yours truly used the same phrase "you people," as a deliberately scathing scold with minority building manager, no clueless naivety here to be trampled by a thieving drunk.) The dialogue is slightly too soft as an expose of the underside of American optimism, but Cox uses the jester to conceal a latent ruthlessness which ableism necessarily engenders. Any atmosphere of the macabre is dispensed with, replaced with street wise betrayal which has its own justification, no conscious remorse, in this case foiled by nominative dork to jackass mode, filling the need for a role model wherever it might turn up.
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