Ed

Picture this: it’s 1996. Friends is arguably the biggest show on television. Matt LeBlanc, aka Joey Tribbiani, is a household name, radiating that charming, slightly goofy charisma. Hollywood logic dictates: strike while the iron is hot! Put him in a movie! What kind of movie, you ask? Why, a heartwarming family comedy about a minor league baseball pitcher who bonds with… a chimpanzee. Who also plays third base. Professionally. Yes, you read that right. This wasn't a fever dream induced by too much sugary cereal; this was Ed.

The setup involves Jack "Deuce" Cooper (LeBlanc), a talented but struggling pitcher shipped off to the Santa Rosa Rockets, a minor league team wallowing in obscurity. The team's quirky owner, Chubb (Jack Warden, a familiar face from classics like All the President's Men and Being There), has a novel idea to boost publicity and maybe, just maybe, win some games: acquire a chimpanzee named Ed from an experimental program. Ed isn't just mascot material; he’s got a cannon for an arm and surprising fielding skills. Naturally, Deuce ends up becoming Ed’s roommate and reluctant handler, leading to predictable odd-couple hijinks involving bananas, baseball, and bewildered teammates, including veteran manager Chubb (played by the always reliable Bill Cobbs, seen in everything from The Hudsucker Proxy to Night at the Museum).

Matt LeBlanc, fresh off his stratospheric Friends success, certainly tries his best. He brings that familiar affability to Deuce, gamely reacting to his primate co-star's antics. But let's be honest, the script, co-penned by David Mickey Evans (who, incredibly, also gave us the genuinely wonderful baseball classic The Sandlot just three years prior!), doesn't give him much to work with beyond looking exasperated or occasionally touched by interspecies bonding. It's a performance adrift in a sea of absurdity, a fact underscored by his Razzie nomination for Worst Screen Couple... alongside Ed the Chimp. Ouch.

Now, here’s where things get interesting, especially for us retro film fans who appreciate the craft (or sometimes, the sheer audacity) behind the magic. How exactly did they bring Ed to life? It wasn't just one trained chimp running the bases (though a real chimp named Zack was used for certain shots). The "performance" was a classic bit of 90s movie-making ingenuity – a blend of animatronics for facial expressions and, for much of the physical action, stunt performer Jay Caputo sweating it out inside a remarkably sophisticated chimpanzee suit. Knowing this adds a layer of strange appreciation; you start watching Ed’s movements, wondering, "Is that the suit guy, or the real monkey?" It’s a practical effect solution that feels distinctly of its time, before CGI animals became the norm.

The film was directed by Bill Couturié, whose background primarily lay in acclaimed documentaries like Dear America: Letters Home from Vietnam. An odd pedigree for a family comedy about a baseball-playing ape, perhaps explaining some of the film’s tonal inconsistencies. It feels like a movie searching for an identity – is it a slapstick comedy? A heartwarming animal story? A quirky sports film? It tries to be all three and mostly strikes out.

Made on a not-insignificant budget of around $24 million (that was real money back in '96!), Ed unfortunately fumbled at the box office, pulling in just over $4 million domestically. Critics were, shall we say, unkind. It quickly became shorthand for a certain kind of failed high-concept 90s comedy, often mentioned in the same breath as other animal-centric oddities of the era like Dunston Checks In (also 1996!).

Watching Ed today is an exercise in nostalgic bewilderment. There’s a certain charm, perhaps, in its absolute commitment to its ludicrous premise. You can see the attempt at creating heartwarming moments between Deuce and Ed, and Jayne Brook does her best as Deuce's love interest, Lydia, trying to ground the silliness. But the jokes often fall flat, the baseball action is unconvincing (even accepting the chimp factor), and the whole affair feels underdeveloped.

It lacks the knowing wink of a true cult classic or the genuine heart of better family films. Instead, Ed occupies that strange middle ground: the movie you vaguely remember seeing the VHS box for at Blockbuster, maybe rented once on a slow Tuesday, and promptly forgot. It’s not offensively terrible, just… profoundly silly and ultimately forgettable. Yet, there's a certain comfort in revisiting these kinds of cinematic misfires. They remind us of a time when studios were willing to greenlight truly bizarre ideas, hoping one might stick. This one, clearly, did not.

Ed is a quintessential example of a 90s studio comedy gamble that simply didn’t pay off. It aimed for the fences with its wacky premise and star power but ended up bunting into a double play. The blend of practical effects, animal actors, and a game Matt LeBlanc can’t overcome a weak script and tonal confusion. It’s a relic, a curiosity, a film existing almost solely as a trivia answer or a punchline about questionable career choices post-sitcom fame.

Justification: While nostalgia might tempt a slightly higher score, the film objectively struggles on almost every level – script, comedy, believable stakes (even within its fantasy). The sheer oddity and the trivia surrounding the effects earn it a point, and maybe another for LeBlanc's earnest effort, but it's ultimately a poorly executed concept that offers little genuine entertainment beyond unintentional laughs or baffled head-shaking.

It's less "So bad it's good" and more "So baffling it exists." A definite deep cut from the VHS bargain bin, best enjoyed (if at all) as a historical artifact of peak 90s weirdness.