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Try as I might to appreciate his progression, there’s still something lazy about the domesticated Adam Sandler — how his freewheeling silliness has slowed to obvious half-punchlines and unwisecracks. He used to hold inanity in cheerful embrace; now he gives it a friendly slap on the back, parlaying his films into likable simulations of a good time. Click, in which he obtains a reality-altering remote control, is actually a better mix of sentimentality and doofus comedy than other recent Sandler mocktails; it’s got a generous helping of Christopher Walken — as the mad scientist, natch — and the screenplay is willing to explore its high concept’s hint of sadness (almost to a fault in the overemphatic final act). Like many late-period Sandler comedies, it’s an OK time-killer. But imagine if Charlie Kaufman had written it, or even if the old Sandler had run wild through it.
Try as I might to appreciate his progression, there’s still something lazy about the domesticated Adam Sandler — how his freewheeling silliness has slowed to obvious half-punchlines and unwisecracks. He used to hold inanity in cheerful embrace; now he gives it a friendly slap on the back, parlaying his films into likable simulations of a good time. Click, in which he obtains a reality-altering remote control, is actually a better mix of sentimentality and doofus comedy than other recent Sandler mocktails; it’s got a generous helping of Christopher Walken — as the mad scientist, natch — and the screenplay is willing to explore its high concept’s hint of sadness (almost to a fault in the overemphatic final act). Like many late-period Sandler comedies, it’s an OK time-killer. But imagine if Charlie Kaufman had written it, or even if the old Sandler had run wild through it.
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