Producers: Adam Sandler, Tim Herlihy, Jack Giarraputo and Robert Simonds Director: Kyle Newacheck Screenplay: Tim Herlihy and Adam Sandler Cast: Adam Sandler, Julie Bowen, Christopher McDonald, Benny Safdie, Ben Stiller, Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, John Daly, Haley Joel Osment, Jackie Sandler, Sadie Sandler, Sunny Sandler, Maxwell Jacob Friedman, Philip Schneider, Ethan Cutkosky, Conor Sherry, Kevin Nealon, Jon Lovitz, Rob Schneider, Lavell Crawford, Dennis Dugan, Kym Whitley, John Farley, Travis Kelce, Boban Marjanovic, Steve Buscemi, Eric André, Martin Herlihy and Margaret Qualley Distributor: Netflix
Grade: C-
Though Adam Sandler has occasionally taken on more mature roles in serious fare, on screen he’s mostly adhered to the bratty man-child image he embodied from his earliest Saturday Night Live days, and with “Happy Gilmore 2” he literally returns to his roots after nearly three decades, resurrecting the off-the-wall golf champ he introduced in 1996. The result is more a two-hour exercise in fan service, nostalgia and friends-and-family partying than a real movie, but die-hard fans will probably eat it up; others are likely to find it insufferable.
The ramshackle script, written like the original by Sandler and longtime collaborator Tim Herlihy, follows two basic story threads. One is a redemption arc: Happy descended into depression and alcoholism after accidentally killing his wife Virginia (Julie Bowen) with an errant golf ball. (Her spectral appearances to bolster his spirits at especially bad moments indicates that she bears no grudge.) Left with five kids—four boys and a girl—to raise, and vowing never to golf again, he spiraled downward, though his rough-housing Happy-like sons (Maxwell Jacob Friedman, Ethan Cutkosky, Philip Fine Schneider and Conor Sherry) and demure daughter Vienna (Sunny Sandler) all love him dearly. And when she gets an opportunity to attend a prestigious ballet school in Paris, he’s faced with the need to raise three hundred grand in tuition money. Seeing no alternative, he returns to the links, recovering his old unique talent after a brief stint in the doldrums. He also joins a comic AA clone headed by his old enemy Hal L (Ben Stiller), who constantly poo-poos his effort to stay sober.
The second thread focuses on a league for a modernized, supercharged form of golf called Maxi Golf promoted by Frank Manatee (Benny Safdie), CEO of an energy drink company. Happy rebuffs the invitation to join it, and instead becomes the star of the traditionalist old-timers’ chance to derail the new operation by winning a tournament pitting him against Manatee’s star player Billy Jenkins (Haley Joel Osment), one of the golfers that the evil founder has surgically altered to improve their driving ability. (Don’t ask how.) Manatee also plays psychological warfare by arranging the release of Happy’s old rival Shooter McGavin (Christopher McDonald) from the mental institution where’s he’s been locked up for thirty years. That ploy, though, turns out badly for him in the end, as McGavin has a redemption arc too.
This bipartite but interlocking plot is, however, just a skeleton for loading down the movie with scads of cameos and references to the original “Gilmore.” Faces from that picture pop up over and over—most in brief snippets, unlike McDonald’s lengthy turn. (Rob Schneider, for instance, shows up as a midget on a bike.) When including somebody is impossible, Sandler and Herlihy simply devise an easy alternative: Carl Weathers’ death made it impossible for his reappearance as Happy’s old mentor Chubbs Peterson, for example, so they merely introduce Levell Crawford as his son Slim, who also happens to have a prosthetic hand for comic purposes. And celebrities—golfers, other sports figures, random buddies, Sandler family members—show up just long enough to demonstrate their general unfamiliarity with acting. All the padding stretches “Gilmore 2” out to nearly an unconscionable two hours. Needless to say, there’s a heaping helping of tastelessness to deal with as well: one recurrent bit, about the rowdily careless attitude of workers at airports, might strike one as less than hilarious given the recent spate of crashes and near-misses involving passenger planes.
There are a few bright stops amid all the ruckus. Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, aka Bad Bunny, is actually amusing as Gilmore’s new caddy Oscar, and old pro McDonald seizes on the chance to make Shooter a near-star, despite the burden of scatological humor he must bear. On the other hand, Travis Kelce, as Oscar’s nasty boss at the club restaurant where the kid’s originally a waiter, shows no aptitude in front of the camera (and has to endure a grossly humiliating scene presented as Oscar’s emotional “happy place”), and Stiller’s prolonged bit is a laugh-free bust. As for Sandler himself, apart from the scenes in which he has to look morose over Virginia’s demise and his lack of paternal attention to the kids, he simply falls back on his familiar comic shouting.
Technically the movie is hardly any great shakes, but it meets the standards of your usual Happy Madison production, with a prosaic production design by Perry Andelin Blake and equally nondescript cinematography by Zak Mulligan, while Rupert Gregson-Williams’ score tries to emphasize how amused we’re supposed to be. But Brian Robinson’s editing is sluggish, though Sandler’s typically lethargic mien and Kyle Newacheck’s lackadaisical direction really don’t allow for crisp cutting.
The movie will certainly attract eyes on Netflix, and leave us all hoping that it won’t encourage Sandler to revisit his other early comedies—please, no “Billy Madison 2” or “Waterboy Part Deux.” At least we can be sure that a “Little Nicky Is Back” is not in the cards.