[rating=1.00]
I once cancelled cable because of Gran Torino. Granted, there were other reasons, most of them veterinary related, but one night I sat down specifically to watch Clint Eastwood’s self-serving, piece of shit movie, and then I called and cancelled it the next day. After watching Adam Sandler’s The Ridiculous 6, I am considering doing that with Netflix.
The Ridiculous 6 is a lot of things. Funny is not one of them. Neither is it entertaining. It’s somewhere in the vein of Netflix’s first big win in the independent production department, House of Cards, which offered top-shelf talent to act out substandard, soap-opera quality scripts. Only replace the top-shelf talent with second-tier SNL sidemen, and a side cast seemingly chosen by some kind of Buzzfeed trending topic randomizer algorithm. Danny Trejo, Taylor Lautner, the guy who played Huell from Breaking Bad, Vanilla Ice and other pop-culture gadflies from past and present all pop up long enough for their nod and wink to the camera.
Also, if we’re going to keep running with the House of Cards comparison (which we are), then replace the soap-opera quality scripts of House of Cards with no script at all. In its inevitable void, just a series of partially thought-out scenes in a subgenre I can only assume is some kind of post-modern joke that never gets told and, if it were, it would be absent a punchline.
Interestingly enough, burnt-out comedians seem to excel at this particular subgenre, and this film is so lousy with them it almost seems like a union requirement.
Beyond what was perhaps legitimately Sandler’s one indulgent attempt to present himself as an action star (he co-wrote and co-produced it), it’s simply devoid of any kind of meaningful story arc; a movie that very well might end up being the singular film that defines the current zeitgeist of mainstream cinema. This kind of quasi self-aware production was made outside of the studio system, meaning if Netflix hadn’t backed it, it would’ve likely been crowdsourced, entailing even more callous fan service than what we end up with. And probably at least three quotes from Billy Madison or Happy Gilmore or whatever film Sandler may have been remembered for being funny in once upon a time.
Instead, now we have a gravel-voiced Sandler, who here was raised by an Apache tribe, who meets his real father, played by Nick Nolte, whose lines are alternately barked and squawked out, held together by mucus and a star power quickly fading into actual obscurity. Sandler’s character, who’s named White Knife, its own mix of trying to be offensive and being offensive, then embarks on a journey. Along the way he meets his five brothers, before they again meet with their father and…. there’s just absolutely no way I can make this sound the least bit fucking interesting.
Aside from the fact that even the cast doesn’t appear to be having the least bit of fun here, which is saying something, considering that Sandler is known to make movies just for the paid vacation aspect, its biggest problem is that it clocks in at a whopping 119 fucking minutes. This is a movie with maybe 75 minutes worth of material that my memory has condensed down to a lean 50, similar to how you can block out traumatic memories. Which has made reviewing a challenge, but thankfully, I took notes.
Just kidding. I didn’t take notes.
I did laugh once, however, courtesy of Steve Zahn yelling in reaction to a throwaway gag that seemed to land almost accidentally. Although Steve Zahn yelling actually made me laugh during Saving Silverman once over 15 years ago, too, so… take that for what it’s worth. In this case, it’s worth exactly one star, but that one star is not worth wasting on a two hour death knell from irony’s own self-cannibalism presented in digital 4K, on-demand streaming.
One Response
The old joke “no soap, radio” trolls the listener by tricking him into laughing at something which not only isn’t funny and doesn’t make sense but its a veiled insult. People who like you don’t pull that kind of trick on you. The butt of the joke elicits something other than “shucks, you got me!”, but more like “I hate you, never talk to me again!”. Sandler has created a movie equivalent of that joke and anyone who’s sat through it feels the resultant sting. Sandler’s smirk indicates that he always knew his humor was stupid and his talent minimal but Netflix fell for the troll believing the joke was really funny.