That's My Boy
R (crude sexual content throughout, nudity, pervasive language, drug use); 112 min.
Lowbrow comedy goes subterranean in That's My Boy, a product of the Adam Sandler movie factory unpolluted by a trace of ambition or wit.
Sandler, treading water in a sea of bodily fluids, retarded sexuality and anti-social behavior, makes you yearn for the rib-tickling sophistication of Ernest Goes to Camp. The movie should be buried in a time capsule to teach future generations what to avoid.
The deluxe-stupid script positions Sandler as Donny, a washed-up minor celebrity who rocketed to national fame when he impregnated his red-hot math teacher at age 13. Now he's a beer-bloated, middle-aged child-man who needs his successful adult son's financial help to avoid a prison sentence for tax evasion.
The boy (Andy Samberg), whom he christened Han Solo, changed his name to Todd and severed all ties for reasons that should be obvious. On Todd's wedding weekend, Donny re-enters his life, wreaking havoc at every turn.
Sad-sack Samberg is Donny's mirror image. He's the poster boy for mousy repression -- his pretty, domineering fiancee is obviously interested in the rising executive for his money alone -- and when he grasps the situation, Dad changes his mission, deciding that a good, gutter-wallowing hookers-and-booze bachelor party is what his dweebish boy needs. Cue the urine and barf jokes.
If this summary is unpleasant, I assure you the film is a lot more fun to read about than to endure.
-- Colin Covert, Minneapolis Star Tribune
