Adam Sandler and Andy Samberg (Tracy Bennett/Sony)Last month an ill-fated press screening of The Avengers was delayed after a (probably non-union) technician accidentally deleted the film from a theater’s hard drive. Rumors spread that it that it took hours to download the movie all over again, though it’s little consolation to know it only took 15 minutes. If digital distribution makes it so easy to lose a film, what does that say about the preservation of today’s cinematic issue for future generations? The film archivist community shudders at the thought of terabytes of lost films. But with the fragility of the ephemeral digital object comes a silver lining. That’s My Boy, the new digital presentation starring Adam Sandler, is a strong argument in favor of the disposable nature of our cultural artifacts. If only we could ensure that generations thousands of years from now will not stumble upon its artless patterns like archaeologists on mysterious cave paintings and wrongly interpret them as an invitation to visit. Scientists of the future, if you can make sense of this missive from your ancestors, heed well my warning: DO NOT VISIT THIS PLANET.
Donny Berger (Sandler) is a broke Bostonian facing middle age and 43 grand in back taxes. He used to be able to live off youthful notoriety. In seventh grade, awkward attempts at seducing his teacher landed him in a detention that turned to the teacher molesting him. The main plot line is inspired, if that’s the word, by a well-known case. There may be no such thing as a good time to make light of such headlines, but now seems especially wrong. The inappropriate liaison led to a child, and naturally Donny was not ready to be a parent. Donny named his son Han Solo, forced him to get a back tattoo of New Kids on the Block when he was nine, encouraged terrible eating habits, and was neglectful to the point of abuse.
The backstory happened in the mid-80s, just before Sandler’s star began to rise, and the movie is populated with entertainers who have fallen from some level of fame: Vanilla Ice, Todd Bridges, Tony Orlando. Sandler has probably made more money than all of them combined, and their recruitment for this picture is a cruel but of stunt casting. Then again, Sandler may be acting out the anxieties of a future when he, too will be broke and forgotten. The film makers clearly have profound anxieties about sex and women, the misogynistic vision of human relations essentially limited to masturbation, incest, and statutory rape, with a horny octagenarian being the closest the movie gets to a healthy relationship.
From left: Adam Sandler, Andy Samberg, Leighton Meester, and Tony Orlando. (Tracy Bennett/Sony)Sandler could hardly be accused of showing great talent at any point in his career, the exception that proves the rule being his heartbreaking performance in Punch Drunk Love. But his frat-boy hijinks are usually couched in a puppy dog persona that can make him sympathetic. As recently as You Don’t Mess With The Zohan, you could still see Sandler as underdog, struggling to make his humble dreams come true. For some reason, there was always a point in an Adam Sandler comedy that put tears in my eyes, from sentimentality, not pain. But Sandler’s last project, Jack and Jill, was the first of his movies to leave me unmoved (we’ll ignore the tepid post-9/11 drama Reign Over Me). I didn’t think he could make a worse movie than Jack and Jill. He has.
That’s My Boy reminds me of a scene in the 1979 romantic sci-fi movie Time After Time. H.G. Wells (Malcolm MacDowell) chases Jack the Ripper (David Warner) through time to the late 1970s to find the legendary killer watching the television news. Jack the Ripper proudly tells Wells that in these horrible times, his atrocities barely register. “I’m an amateur.” In a world where the octomom makes a porn movie, the new Adam Sandler joint may not be the most offensive entertainment available. But that still makes him Jack the Ripper.
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That’s My Boy
Directed by Seth Anders
Written by David Caspe
With Adam Sandler, Andy Samberg, Leighton Meester, James Caan, Vanilla Ice.
Rated R by the MPAA for bad sex scenes, crass language throughout and a whole lot of bad parenting.
Running time: too long
Opens today at a theater near you.
