I almost didn’t watch “Happy Gilmore 2,” but the first “Happy Gilmore” happens to be one of my favorite Adam Sandler movies, and a sudden wave of nostalgia washed over me. I was 21 when the original came out, and I wanted to see if Sandler was aging just like me. (Which is to say, rapidly.)
Even the jokes that aren’t meant to offend have the shelf life of deviled eggs in the summer sun.
His oeuvre — if you will — is riddled with off-color jokes, casual racism and locker-room homophobia that are either cringeworthy or gratuitously unnecessary by today’s standards. And even the jokes that aren’t meant to offend have the shelf life of deviled eggs in the summer sun.
I know it’s almost a cliche to obsess over the 1990s and early aughts online, but topical humor from those decades should probably stay there. I’m also not a scold. There’s a time and a place for an inappropriate gag, sure. Especially if you’re making fun of the powerful and the selfish.
Far too often, watching a Sandler movie is like playing a game of cinematic Russian roulette: For every five movies like 2007’s “I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry,” there’s one “Punch Drunk Love,” where Sandler gives a surprisingly intense and heartfelt performance.
“Happy Gilmore 2” is a massive hit for Netflix. According to the streamer, the comedy racked up 46.7 million views in its first three days and is currently the No. 1 English-language movie on the platform. But that’s not because it’s a good movie.
Adam Sandler is beloved. I get it. He may be the only celebrity I like more the more I avoid his movies.
Again, that’s not to say that Sandler hasn’t produced a few bangers, like the 1998 rom-com classic “The Wedding Singer” or the harrowing crime drama “Uncut Gems” from 2019. His charming 2022 basketball drama “Hustle” is a movie I happily recommended to my NBA-obsessed nephew. When he stars in a dramatic role, he’s usually memorable — the Sandman has range. But “Happy Gilmore 2” won’t be listed among Sandler’s best work.
Sandler may be the only celebrity I like more the more I avoid his movies.
It’s a hit, yes, but that’s because Sandler is a brand name. He’s a relatable A-lister whose movies rarely challenge their audiences.
Netflix was smart to partner with Sandler in 2014, an eye-popping $250 million deal — which was big news at the time — that has paid off for both parties. Since then, Sandler and Netflix have re-upped their partnership more than once, and it’s only a matter of time until we get “Happy Gilmore 3.”
There are plenty of critics who have pooh-poohed “Happy Gilmore 2,” but it seems unfair to look down on a movie that isn’t looking to impress anyone. I find Sandler movies are best enjoyed in retrospect, like memories of family vacations and first heartbreaks.
Sandler is fundamentally likable on screen and off. In most comedies, he’s a mama’s boy, a best friend, a well-meaning dimwit. He sticks by his people. His real-life reputation reflects that persona. He’s worked with his family and friends for decades. His box office longevity has a lot to do with a rock-solid belief that there’s an audience out there for unpretentious puerile silliness.
“Happy Gilmore 2” isn’t good , but Adam Sandler movies should exist beyond the “thumbs up/thumbs down” binary. If you find yourself watching an Adam Sandler movie and halfway through you realize you’re watching an Adam Sandler movie, then you have only yourself to blame.
I begrudgingly enjoyed a few aspects of “Happy Gilmore 2.” Gilmore is widowed (in an early, and controversial, scene), leaving him to raise his daughter (played by Sandler’s real-life kid) and four hockey-obsessed mini-Gilmore delinquents, who are funny in a chaotic, “Looney Tunes” way.
“Happy Gilmore” belongs to one of my favorite comedy genres, the “slobs versus snobs” movie (think “National Lampoon’s Animal House” in 1978 or 1986’s “Back to School,” starring Rodney Dangerfield), which isn’t as popular as it once was.
Sandler’s Gilmore is a goofy manchild with a hair-trigger temper who loves hockey — the fights at least — but learns his true athletic talent is playing golf. When his grandma is at risk of losing her house, Gilmore signs up for a golf tournament. The prize money would be enough for him to buy her home.
Gilmore is uncouth and foul-mouthed, and his presence upsets all the stuck-up golf pros. He’s an underdog who’s doubted by everyone except his loved ones, and his mentor, one-handed retired golf guru Chubbs Peterson, played by the late, great Carl Weathers.
Gilmore, like Sandler, is an icon of Gen X masculinity.
Gilmore, like Sandler, is an icon of Gen X masculinity.
America still held on to traditional ideas of manliness in the mid-1990s, a decade influenced by old-school images of strong, silent types like John Wayne and well-dressed cool cats like Frank Sinatra. The Baby Boomers looked up to the manly men their parents worshipped, while producing their own brooding leading men, like Warren Beatty and Steve McQueen.
But Sandler represented dudes his age on the big screen, a generation of hoodie-wearing slackers who weren’t afraid of a fight but weren’t quite so tight-lipped.
There’s another aspect I have to admit I enjoyed about “Happy Gilmore 2”: It’s surprisingly existential. There are multiple poignant references to Happy Gilmore actors who have died since the movie’s release nearly 30 years ago—including game show host Bob Barker, who nearly stole the first “Happy Gilmore” from its star. Happy Gilmore is fully middle-aged now, and to grow older is to say goodbye to people you love.
I wasn’t expecting that occasional meditation on grief and loss. I expected — and got — people getting thwacked in the face and genitals by golf balls. But Sandler is constantly acknowledging he’s not as young as he was, and neither am I.
The men in Sandler’s movies can be dopey. They can be sad sacks. But even the most ill-behaved of them have moral compasses. Sandler’s men are loyal to their friends, and they’re not immune to learning (sometimes very basic) lessons about right versus wrong. Happy Gilmore’s greatest virtue is that he listens to those he loves (even if it takes a while). And he always punches up, both literally and figuratively.
The Sandler Cinematic Universe exists separately from the so-called Manosphere, the loosely connected collection of podcasts and video influencers selling manhood to young dudes. Happy Gilmore, infantile rager that he is, is a preferable role model to, say, Joe Rogan, another Gen Xer who used to be funny but now takes himself a little too seriously.
That may be, ultimately, why I still stan Sandler after all these years (and terrible movies like “Pixels”): He hasn’t stopped laughing at himself.
