know what I like best in a comedy? Humor. That shit cracks me up.
I'm telling you, jokes are the keg of beer at the company picnic
when it comes to funny. Without it, you might as well drag me down
to the potato-sack race and shoot me in the nuts right in front
of the six-year olds. Sometimes, though, a movie is made that claims
to be a comedy and it doesn't have jokes in it. I can understand,
really. Those grassfuckers in Hollywood are too busy with their
Atkins diets and selling their Tae Bo tapes on eBay to bother with
little details like that. Anger Management is one of those
anemic comedies. It's not so much that I didn't find it funny. I
didn't. But, who the fuck would when the filmmakers forgot to add
the jokes? AS it is, it's tedious, loud, contrived and lousy.
There're some jokes in
there, sure, but not nearly enough. And the ones they included are
such retreaded, inconsistent crap that they're about as funny as
a goiter. I'm not sure if I have ever mentioned it before, but this
guy Adam Sandler makes some god-awful shitty movies. He doesn't
have to, but he finds it so easy to turn out lazy, unpolished turds
full of immature jokes and punchless gags. He hires all his unemployable
comedy friends and we're supposed to chuckle along with their camaraderie,
as though paying eight bucks makes us eligible to be in on the in-jokes.
At some point, I expected this bastard to grow up and actually try
to make a decent movie. I give up.
is different from Sandler's other shit, at least, in that instead
of playing a socially retarded man-child, he's trying to play an
adult. Problem is, he has no idea what interesting adults are like.
He thinks they are kids, laugh at the same immature shit, but are
Sandler plays a dullard
with an unrealistically nice apartment and bottles of pent-up rage
who, once again, is shit upon at work and takes it. He dates a boring
woman but is constantly insecure that she will be stolen away by
a guy with a bigger dick. Seriously, this is what passes for an
adult concern in Sandler's world. One day, while flying to a meeting,
he meets Jack Nicholson, an unorthodox anger management counselor.
After an airline incident, Sandler is assigned to anger management
class, and guess who his teacher is.
Through script contortions
that would make those freaks in Cirque du Soleil folks proud, Nicholson
moves into Sandler's apartment and gives him intensive therapy.
And boy, oh boy, that's where the fun starts. Or rather, I got the
impression that it was supposed to.
The movie script is a
limp-dick. Most of what's supposed to be comedy are vague ideas
that come across like Calvin Klein models: nice in theory, but no
meat on the bones. Some were probably funny as one-sentence descriptions
before the script was written, but when dragged out for five minutes
they fall flat on their skinny asses. A confrontation with a peaceful
monk, a bar encounter with Heather Graham that plays out without
punchline, the destruction of a Lexus, and a boring-as-a grandmother-sorting-medications
marriage proposal at Yankee Stadium are just unbearable slogs to
sit through. Why didn't someone bother to take the time to flesh
these scenes out? Did the scriptwriters think, "Oh, we can just
make it funny later?"
Watching Jack Nicholson
in Anger Management is like getting root canal by a singing
dentist. Who knew that deep down this distinguished actor had such
community-theater tendencies? If the joke ain't funny, he figures,
be loud and broad and occasionally fart for good measure. He chews
the scenery like a hillbilly with a plug of chaw, and the result
is overlabored, desperate cornpone. His performance is the movie's
most consistent, but it's also the most desperate. And really, if
I wanted to laugh at desperation, I wouldn't have gotten sick of
watching the Harelip try to find her car keys every night in 1997.
Sandler just sucks and
he isn't getting any better. How many times is he going to waste
golden opportunities to make great comedy by barfing up the easiest,
laziest gags imaginable? Anger Management is a more adult
"comedy" but that just means more boring, and punctuated with the
same old awful fart gags and tedious cameos by the likes of Kevin
Nealon and a bunch of boney ancients at Yankee Stadium who cling
to their jobs under the name of "tradition."
Which brings me to another
point. Fuck the Yankees, those overpaid, uncompetitive crybabies
with the obnoxious, deep-pocketed owner who tries to singlehandedly
undermine baseball in the name of his own ego. In Anger Management
Sandler and his ladyfriend are supposed to be Yankee fans in this
movie. It's fitting, because it takes no guts or imagination to
root for them. Fuck the fucking Yankees. I can't stand those assholes
with their shitty stadium and announcer who can't pronounce jack
shit, and that's when he actually remembers to. I'm sick of Robert
Merrill over-enunciating the national anthem. And I'm sick of their
lazy asshole fans who think they have a birthright to waste twice
as much money as any other team in pursuit of championships. What's
the fun in rooting for a team that is supposed to win, pays more
than anyone else to win, and is comprised of overpaid whiners and
cheats like David Wells and Roger Clemens?
Well, leave it to Sandler
to root for the Yankees. There is nothing easier than cheering for
the overdog. And leave it to him to base his movie on the assumption
that we all just love unfunny cameos by Roger Clemens and Derek
Jeter. Maybe this shit plays to the meatheads who love the pinstriped
assholes who crap on Babe Ruth's legacy every time they step on
the field, but it's painful to me. If you're going to spend 20 minutes
of your movie in that armpit in the Bronx, for God's sake, at least
try to make it funny to the 95% of us who don't blindly worship
that festering boil called the Yankees.
The Yankee shit is just
another example of the lazy, self-interested filmmaking of Adam
Sandler. Fuck the Yankees and fuck him for taking my eight bucks
for another laughless exercise. One Finger.
to tell Filthy Something