This is getting old, very fast. The annual Adam Sandler film has become a reviled event that inspires evacuation of bowels, loss of lunch, and many a palmed face. And like a true limbo champion, Sandler always surprises me with how low he can go.
Donny got his teacher knocked up while in highschool (after he somehow seduced her). After the two deviants were discovered, the teacher was sent to prison and Donny was hailed as a teenage star with a baby to take care of. Many years down the line and Donny is broke and a step away from prison for tax evasion. To remedy his predicament, the oafish former idol approaches his now wealthy, estranged son so bring him into a scheme and get the much needed cash.
As crass as Jack and Jill was, That’s my Boy is amplified by it’s R rating – a return experience for Sandler. The humour of That’s my Boy, if you can call it that, is almost entirely sexual in nature while also venturing into drugs, and dick and fart jokes. The more I dwell on this film, the more I’m convinced that this film was either made by a 12 year old boy or a complete sociopathic sadist – its objective is to be entirely, an undisputebly unwatchable, with topics that range from the gross to the morose, even going to far as to use incest and pedophilia. Basically, if it has a hole, you can be sure that someone’s penis is going to abuse it – and that includes earholes as well.
The shit flavoured crusting on the top is of course Sandler himself, who puts on his best borderline retarded performance to date, once again donning the infamous accent/impedement that has sealed this actor as the drunkard uncle of the film industry. Throughout the film, I couldn’t help but feel a little sympathetic to co-star Andy Samberg – who may also lack the ability to read considering that he actually signed onto this film – this isn’t to say that his comedic sensibilities are much higher than Sandler’s, but at least his material outside of this film is entertaining in its crudeness.
Never before have I encountered such a film that prompts me to question whether cinema could get any worse. This year has had its ups and downs but That’s my Boy may actually be the proverbial bottom of the barrel and Sandler scrapes it until only the rusty innards remain. That’s my Boy may not just be the worst film of 2012 but possibly the worst film I have had the displeasure of watching…ever. It may also be the first film that made me feel physically sick while watching it; I can only explain the experience as something akin to being a patient in an ICU with a prankster that has fills the I.V. with diarrhea.
No matter what I say here, the bastions of popcorn stuffing casual filmgoers will flock to the egregious piece of filth. To those with taste, don’t even dignify That’s my Boy with a piqued interest into it’s shoddiness - unless the taste of a toilet bowl is something you might care to indulge in.
The Bottom Line
I’ve never had a problem with Adam Sandler trying to outdo his awfulness, time and time again – in fact it’s probably a more challenging feat than ascending through cinema’s ranks – he can only go up after all. This time however, not only does he crash and burn, he also drags poor Andy Samberg through the manure with him (he left Saturday Night Live for this?). Keep in mind that this is a conscious effort to maliciously attack the audience with despicable attempts at humour and displays of remorseless idiocy; and not in the funny way mind you, more in the “I’ve got to drill a hole in my head to forget I ever watched this garbage” kind of way.
It’s irredeemably disrespectful to viewers and an open act of contempt against the unfortunate souls that by chance wonder into it. That’s my Boy as replaced Jack and Jill as the true benchmark for kak movies.