The Week Of (2018) - Movie Review

 

Say what you will about Adam Sandler (and I have, at great length in past reviews), but his collaborative deal with Netflix might be one of the smartest decisions he’s ever made. After all, his films have become so egregiously not-worth-paying-cinema-ticket-prices-for that pairing them up with thousands of other, better films as part of a monthly subscription is the closest he’s gonna get to having an audience again. Okay, over 2017, he showed some definite signs of improvement, so maybe this film will benefit from that. Well, it kinda does and it kinda doesn’t.

This film’s entire premise feels like a personal dare on Adam Sandler’s part. Like he heard about the theory that he only makes movies these days for a paid vacation, and then decided to set an entire movie around being stuck with a shithole hotel, as part of trying to arrange for a venue for his daughter’s wedding. This results in a lot of obvious humour, where we’re supposed to think that the clerk who just laughs at everything and the constantly dripping ceiling are meant to be comedy gold, but quite frankly, that isn’t even close to the worst of this film’s comedic desperation.

No, that comes with Sandler’s side of the family in the film all talking in thick Long Island accents, adding a good pinch of irritating to the already dire dialogue, and watching them go through the usual social embarrassments that most people specifically don’t go to weddings out of fear of running into. It’s brought up for easy audience sympathy, and it certainly gets that, but it’s not what one would call funny. Nor is the strange running gag of Sandler and his wife (Rachel Dratch as his in-film wife, that is, because of course he cast his IRL wife in this thing too) loudly arguing off-camera, or Chris Rock as the world’s most disinterested heart surgeon, who looks like he’s just gathering material for shit to make fun of in Top Five 2.

Then there’s the straight-up bewildering stuff, like Steve Buscemi carrying around a giant Toblerone like a bad prop comic, or how we’re supposed to think that people sleeping during a funeral is instantly hilarious, or the skyzone strip club full of trampolines, or the family trying to catch a colony of bats under an overpass, or Adam Sandler once again thinking that performing in drag is a good idea (would have thought Jack & Jill put the final nail in that one).

Part of me thinks I should laugh at some of this out of sheer confusion, as a lot of this becomes hysterically inexplicable, but in this two-hour sit, the part of the brain responsible for that reaction will likely go numb long before you reach that point. That, and the really stupid subplot involving Sandler’s great-uncle, diabetes, World War II, and some of the weakest attempts at “covering up a lie” humour I’ve ever sat through.

But even with all that in mind, I stand by what I said about Sandler showing some signs of improvement, and in terms of character, that holds true here. He’s basically playing a familiar character in most comedies involving weddings: The proud father of the bride who wants to take care of everything himself, to the point where he refuses to let anyone else help pay for it.

He actually comes across as humble and aware of his character’s shortcomings, in over his head but in a way that shows he cares about his daughter. He just goes about it in a misguided way. Compared to his ‘douchebag who somehow always bags the hot chick’ stock character, this is refreshing and even a bit sweet, particularly with his scenes opposite Allison Strong as his daughter. It’s just a shame that said character is attached to such a do-nothing film.