Coming soon to a theater near you: The Misadventures of Adam-Boy!
No, that movie doesn't exist yet. But the Native American cinematic community might want to consider such a film, as it may be the best way to exact payback on Adam Sandler.
A group of Native American actors recently walked off the set of Sandler's latest film, The Ridiculous Six, incensed at the depiction of their heritage and the fact that an Indian woman's character was named "Beaver's Breath." It was a bold move, given most were movie extras and bit players. I've never served as an extra, but I do know the number one rule of movie extra employment is to never approach the stars. Demanding script changes certainly comes in a close second.
Grumblings about a Sandler picture normally don't begin until the finished product hits multiplexes. Then the critics regurgitate the same columns they've been writing for the past 10 years, basically wondering how a talented actor, comedian and sketch comedy player who created memorable Saturday Night Live characters like Opera Man and Canteen Boy could continue churning out cover-your-eyes, where's-the-joke-here comedies like That's My Boy, Jack and Jill and You Don't Mess With the Zohan. Yet, Sandler's movies make money; plenty of people were willing to mess with Zohan, given its $100 million gross.
Don't get me wrong, Sandler makes the occasional decent movie. Check out the thought-provoking Men, Women & Children for proof. But, time and again, he proves he is capable of descending into movie critic purgatory, starring in films that poke fun at groups struggling for mainstream acceptance in real life. I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry mocked gay marriage, while the African-American community bore the brunt of Sandler-esque humor in Blended.
There are no plans to shelve The Ridiculous Six. Netflix, the film's distributor, defended the humor and is probably giddy at the controversy it's creating. Those offended can spur a movie's box office as evidenced by The Interview, which continues to make money despite North Korea's threats to hurt anybody who watches it.
While I applaud the Native American community for taking a stand, revenge, not refusal, might be the better solution. The finest Native American actors, writers, producers and directors should get together and create a film chock full of Adam Sandler stereotypes. Sandler could be offered a walk-on role but would certainly decline once he read the movie's plot:
A teenage boy named "Adam" is left alone one weekend while his parents vacation at the summer camp of their youth with their "grown-up" friends. A steady stream of guests arrives, beginning with golf pro "Silly Gilmore," who trashes Adam's home with a five-iron while the distraught youth cowers behind a couch. Next up is "Little Dicky," who tells Adam he is visiting from hell, a place where all the inhabitants must watch horrible movies starring "Saturday Night Live" alumni who made poor career choices. Jon Lovitz and Rob Schneider movies play nightly but, as Dicky tells Adam, the loudest screams of anguish come from the theater showing "Anger Management."
Mack and his twin sister Lill are next to arrive. Look closely and you'll see that Lill is actually Mack, dressed in drag. The two parade around the house, mugging for the cameras until Adam throws up his hands and asks, "Are you two supposed to be funny?" Silly Gilmore then hits a chip shot that lands directly in Lill's cleavage.
Order is eventually restored when police arrive and arrest all of Adam's visitors. They are taken to the county lockup, where they share a cell with a man holding a TV remote similar to the one Sandler used in "Click." The man spends the remainder of the movie frantically clicking in a vain attempt to make his cellmates funny. Finally he clicks "mute," silencing them forever.
The movie would end with the disclaimer: "Adam Sandler was not physically hurt during the making of this movie ... just his feelings."
c) 2015 GREG SCHWEM. DISTRIBUTED BY TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.