I knew I’d be watching The Do-Over today, so earlier this week in preparation I sat through Adam Sandler’s debut film for Netflix, The Ridiculous 6. The best thing I can say about Ridiculous 6 is that Vanilla Ice is really funny as Mark Twain, which is not a thing that should be said about any movie, ever. Thankfully, The Do-Over is slightly better. It’s just not that funny.
The skeleton of a funny story is here, to be sure. Charlie MacMillan (David Spade, surprisingly looking good in a mustache) meets up with Max Kessler (Sandler) at their high school reunion. Charlie – a nebbish bank manager who probably would have been played by William H. Macy if this were 1995 and the film took itself a little more seriously – is taken right away with his old buddy Max, now a badass FBI agent. Charlie admits that his life sucks, and after a day spent on Max’s boat, he finds that Max faked both their deaths and gave them new identities.
Sure, sign me up. That sounds like a solid premise for a comedy, but The Do-Over, unimaginatively directed by Steven Brill (Mr. Deeds, Little Nicky), is so aimless and scattershot that it has trouble figuring out what kind of movie it wants to be until around the third act. There are some major inconsistencies, too. Charlie, for instance, seems to change clothes in every scene he’s in. And that’s not even getting to the product placement (including, bafflingly, a prominent shot of the Netflix logo). At one point, Max offers Charlie a Bud Light. Cut to: Charlie drinking scotch. Max exits, and Charlie picks up his drink, which is…a fucking Corona now? I think the whole point of product placement is that it shouldn’t be noticeable. It’s a true hallmark of laziness to be so cavalier with continuity issues, and if Sandler, Spade, and Brill don’t seem to care, why should I?
Contrary to what I said earlier, The Do-Over isn’t a totally mirthless affair. A lot of punchlines are ruined by over-explaining, but the running gags here work surprisingly well. Max has a knee-jerk reaction to show people increasingly gruesome pictures of dead bodies, and has a seemingly never-ending supply of joints. Michael Chiklis shows up in a cameo and mainly just screams, which is actually funnier than it sounds. It also helps that The Do-Over doesn’t use the usual company of Happy Madison stock players (with the exception of a restrained Nick Swardson). In place of Allen Covert or the dreadful Peter Dante, we’re offered people with background in comedy, not just background in being friends with Adam Sandler. Matt Walsh and Kathryn Hahn both fill small roles but manage to energize the proceedings with their timing and delivery.
Spade and Sandler both commit to a surprising extent, considering the fact that Sandler’s films are well-known to be little more than paid vacations (Puerto Rico sure looks nice). Spade doesn’t get to rely on his smartass schtick, and in doing so he finds a vein of sadness running through Charlie. Sandler turns in one of his most unhinged performances, as Max gets progressively crazier throughout the film. It’s nothing really new for the actor, but it beats the hell out of his somnambulent performance in The Ridiculous 6 (and as a bonus, he’s not dressed up like a Native American).
When the film starts to wear its heart on its sleeve, though, is when it really falters. Who goes in to a Happy Madison production expecting – or wanting – pathos? So when the increasingly Byzantine plot – which aims for Pynchon-esque twists and turns but settles for being muddled and confusing – starts to center around a miracle cure for cancer, you’re likely to groan. The Do-Over sputters to a complete halt before picking up in the last five or ten minutes. But first it has to get an ugly fight scene out of the way; I’m not saying the film is necessarily sexist, because I don’t think it is, but an extended sequence of a woman getting the crap kicked out of her is nowhere near as funny as the film thinks it is.
At the end of the day, this is an Adam Sandler movie. I don’t think any of us get excited seeing the Happy Madison logo these days (I know I haven’t since Mr. Deeds). It’s not a complete disaster, but it could have been so much better if the people behind and in front of the camera seemed to care. Are they drinking Bud Light or Corona?
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