Appearing recently on Jimmy Kimmel’s show Adam Sandler was asked if he makes movies now just as a way to go on vacation. Somewhat surprisingly he said that he does and has been since 50 First Dates. Sandler-invariably easier to take in interviews than on the big screen-clearly didn’t shy away from the answer and it’s extremely telling. It’s clear at this point that he’s doing this more for his own benefit than the audience’s. In practically every sense his recent work all plays like fantasy camp idiocy. If the primary motivation for making Blended, his new movie with Drew Barrymore, was to get away to South Africa, then it shows. But what’s the meaning of any of his movies now except to hang out with buddies, star opposite total babes, earn big paydays and have a real good time? Was anything deeper going on in either Grown Ups or its sequel than that? And does a man as wealthy as Sandler is really need the excuses or the help to live it up?
The funny thing about movies though, like virtually everything worth making and experiencing, is that they really are hard work. And it’s not too demanding to expect that every once in a blue moon they reflect some of the thought and sweat that went into them. Blended most definitely doesn’t, location be damned. This is lazy to the point of being downright insulting. In other words, it’s just your typical Sandler movie. No better or worse than some of the others, perhaps, but every inch as sophomoric and indifferent and with the added bonus of family-friendly sticky sentiments.
Blended begins with a blind date gone about as bad as a first encounter can possibly go. Sandler and Barrymore play Jim and Lauren, single parents meeting for the first time at a Hooters. He won’t even make eye contact with her (he’s focused on sports and the young waitresses) and she’s rightly offended he chose Hooter’s. It starts off bad and from very quickly devolves into unfunny hostility and timeless gross out humor. There’s no goodbye kiss or promise of a second date at the end. When they cross each other’s paths again, it’s a chance encounter at a drug store. The script (by Clare Sera and Ivan Menchell) finds pretty spurious reasons to keep them bumping into each other and by the time they’re both outraged to see the other one at a South African resort with their families (they’ve been booked into the same room), it’s a real eye roller.
These two people, it must be completely clear, flat out can’t stand each. That’s the only joke the movie really has and it grinds it promptly into the ground. Blended gives you every reason why Jim and Lauren shouldn’t be together, but does a much better job of making you dislike both of them and not give a damn about the outcome. The gimmicky script by Ivan Menchell and Clare Sera makes sure the prickly distaste stretches to their kids as well. Jim has three daughters (the mother died from cancer) and Lauren has two hyperactive young teen sons (her husband cheated on her and left). Isn’t it perfect (poetic, even) that Jim has all girls and Lauren two boys? Isn’t it a hoot that her job is organizing closets or that big ole obtuse dad Jim drags his daughters to the barber to get made up like men? And isn’t it a riot that the older son keeps referring to his mom as a hottie?
The plot is as non-existent as the comedy. Once you get past the contrived feud and everything that follows it, there’s not much to see here except bizarre depictions of Africans as a full-fledged servant class and outdoor activities like ostrich riding. In every sense, the movie looks like subpar too and in particular the shots of wildlife and scenery are dreary and cheap. It matches the spirit of what’s happening at least. Sandler’s movies to date haven’t had the most politically correct sensibilities and this one is no exception. The two older daughters in typical fashion are endlessly dumped on for looking masculine. And when Lauren goes behind Jim’s back to give the eldest a makeover, we learn the heartwarming lesson that even the ugliest, most mannish duckling can be redeemed by hair extensions and a new dress. What’s every bit as irritating are the cloying plays for the heartstrings that all the soppy backstory about Sandler’s deceased wife. It’s meant to be sweet, but it almost feels as if it was erected as a force field; an emotional barrier meant to make you feel cynical if you come swinging at the movie too hard.
Together for now the third time, Sandler and Barrymore aren’t exactly Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. They’re not Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan either. Blended is a bad and baffling cast, to be sure. The child actors are carelessly directed with sitcom shrillness. Shaq shows up just because he can. Kevin Nealon is hard to watch, as is Tim Crews as some sort of omnipresent resort entertainer (he gives the movie a tinge of cartoon surrealism). It’s Wendi McLendon-Covey as Barrymore’s co-worker and Joel McHale as the derelict, flakey ex-husband who probably make it out the most unscathed (even if he’s far more effective at being a jerk than being funny). But the notion that these two together again constitutes a cinematic event of sorts is a real reach. Sandler and Barrymore seem tired and disengaged together. Sandler doesn’t even bother to alter even fractionally his movie persona for the occasion. He’s always the same guy, with the same temperament, and the same goofy voices he periodically tosses out. He barely acts. He shows up and coasts through it. It’s the same here and his utter lack of charisma or seeming interest in performing or doing anything beyond a good vacation is evident. The man has talent though. He couldn’t have gotten this far without some of it and everyone who has seen Punch Drunk Love knows that brilliant work is in his bones, however much concealed he’s content to let it be. Fans of Adam Sandler really ought to demand much more from him. That or much less.
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