Johnson Family Vacation

Synopsis: AAA can't help the roadside emergency that is the JOHNSON FAMILY VACATION. Even the on-board navigation system has a meltdown on Nate Johnson and his family's cross-country trek to their annual family reunion/grudge match. Reluctantly along for the ride are Nate's wife, who's only in it for the kids; their rapper-wannabe son; their teenage daughter who's fashioned herself as the next Lolita; and their youngest, whose imaginary dog Nate just can't seem to keep track of. Can the Johnsons survive each other and all the obstacles the road throws at them to make it to Caruthersville, Missouri? Can they find Missouri?
Genre: Comedy
Director(s): Christopher Erskin
Production: Fox Searchlight Pictures
  3 nominations.
 
IMDB:
4.4
Metacritic:
29
Rotten Tomatoes:
6%
PG-13
Year:
2004
97 min
$31,038,582
Website
1,245 Views


We're here.

We're here.

We are here.

I can't believe we at Three-Tizzle.

The hottest shop in La Lizzle.

English, son.

Remember, we're in America.

- Son, your Uncle Mack is gonna trip.

- Phew! Oh!

Man, when I first left Caruthersville...

- all I had was a $50 Grimley and a Jheri curl.

- Oh!

- Look at me now. Pushin' a fully loaded...

- Oh!

Brand-new Lincoln Navigator.

Come on, Dad.

Compared to these trucks...

- yours is wack.

- What?

- I'm just sayin'. Don't get all mad at me.

- Come on.

I mean, these are

nice cars out here.

You got your Ferrari, your Lotus,

but it's no Lincoln. That's what I'm saying.

Hello, man.

Welcome to 310 Motoring.

- How may I help ya?

- I'm Nate Johnson. Is my truck ready?

Oh, Nate. Yes, it is, man.

You're the insurance guy.

I remember your truck.

Oh, snap! Hey.

Yo, that's Kurupt.

I sent him my demo tape,

like, two weeks ago.

Just act like you're my bodyguard.

Look.

- Hey, and if he come over...

- What?

Just call me M.C. "D" to theJizz-A.

- Yeah, Dad.

- Call you who to the Wizz-A?

I named you Divernius James...

After your granddaddy.

Plus that street name stuff

isn't marketable.

This rap thing, son,

there's no future in it.

There's no pension,

no 401 plan...

and obviously no dental.

That's why they all have

those gold teeth.

Oh!

Dad, come on.

Dad, come on.!

That's what I call a fully loaded 'Gator

for the haters.

The platinum grille,

Burberry interior.

Hydraulic switches, three-wheel motion,

and look at the wheels.

Oh, boy.

Son, all that Crenshaw crap

kills the resale.

Now, what self-respecting lawyer or doctor

would drive this thing now?

- Dr. Dre.

- Boy, he ain't no real doctor.

Come here now.

Look, son.

My car will be your car in...

three, four or five, six...

seven, eight, nine, 10 years...

and I don't want you thuggin' it up.

But, Dad, then why are we here?

We're here to install my Delco

eight-track tape player...

so I can listen to my music

on the trip.

Listen, if you wanted

to go old-school...

you should have had them

install your record player.

Boy, you know, those videos

got your head all mixed up.

- Now, back in my day...

- Yeah, right.

You couldn't have just two hit songs

and call yourself having a good record.

No, no, no. The whole album had to be good.

You just put it on, let it play.

Wasn't no skip buttons.

Wasn't like that mess you listen to today.

All that "rub me"

and "lick me" and "suck me. "

Gotta wear a condom just

to listen to some of it.

Oh. Oh. No, no, no, no.

- Tell me this is not my truck.

- It is, insurance man. Beautiful, isn't it?

This truck has everything.

It has TVs in the floors and the headrest...

a Nike air bag, even new 26-inch rims

just approved for public use.

Not by me. The only thing I approved

was an eight-track.

Now, where is it?

Oh, the Delco.

It must have been a mix-up...

uh, made by my brother

who we fired yesterday.

Well, imagine that, Ziggy Marley.

Now, I suggest you get

that junk off my truck right now...

before I flip you upside-down

and mop the floor with ya!

Wait, don't. Shh, shh.

Don't be so violent.

Calm down.

I can't just take it off.

It's... It's gonna take about...

- Three days.

- Uh, no. Three? Three days?

No, no, no, no.

In three days I've gotta be in Missouri...

which means

I'm on the I-10 by 10:00.

But no worries.

Just take it...

and bring it back exactly how it is.

- No charge.

- Whoa.

Better not be no charge to me.

Look, what about my eight-track?

Oh, it has eight-track,

nine-track, 10-track.

It's a C.D. Player. Don't worry, boss man.

Your ride will glide.

Yeah!

Dad. Look. Look.

Yeah!

Up, up. Down.

Yeah!

Real smooth!

Oh!

This don't make no sense.

D.J., how do you turn this thing off?

Everybody's lookin' at us.

What's up, baby?

Hey, this is hot, huh?

No, no, no.

Yo, Dad, look.

Look.

It's goin' up, up.

But here's the fun part.

Los Angeles to...

Caruthersville, Missouri.

Los Angeles to Caruthersville.

Distance:
1,888.9 miles.

That's all I need is another woman

telling me what to do.

Ooh, girl, you wanna know

my perfect outfit?

I'm thinking J. Lo's jeans. You know

the ones she had at the MTVAwards.

No, no, no. But Eve's top at the A.M.A.'s,

that was hot. I would rock that.

Open the door.

Tried that.

Here. Use this.

Hold on.

- Hello.

- Nikki, open the door.

Nikki, let your sister

get her dog stuff.

Okay.

Hmm.

Your father was supposed to be here

finish packing

and change that outfit.

Ah! Don't you answer that phone.

Whoever it is can call

when you get back.

- Okay.

- Mm-hmm.

- Did you see that?

- Yeah.

- Dad, did you see that?

- Yeah, I saw that.

Oh, shoot.

Boy, give me the phone.

Phone ain't for you.

Upstairs, D.J.

Hello.

Hey, Mama. No.

- I told you. We'll be there in three days.

- I'm surprised.

'Cause Miss Uppity

makes you back out every year.

I don't know why

that woman doesn't like me.

Come on, Mama.

You did throw cooked rice at our weddin'.

Is that woman even coming?

Yeah. She is, uh,

packing right now.

Hold on, son.

Your brother Mack just got here

with one of those flat-screen TVs.

- Hey, Mama.

- You're always thinkin' about your mama.

- All the time, girl.

- Set it right there between J.F.K. And Jesus.

Hello.

Mack got you a plasma TV?

I don't know. Is that what you call it?

Here. Talk to your brother.

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Todd R. Jones

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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