Oh please just shoot me now. It would be better than me having to remember this rancid shit-pile of a movie.
Grown Ups is kind of a reunion of the 1991 SNL cast. We’ve got Adam Sandler, Chris Rock, Rob Schneider, David Spade, and Chris Farl…er … umm… Kevin James. Where’s Chris Farley?
I have to ask, how can so much comedic ability (and Rob Schneider) make a movie so bad? I mean it… this is one of the worst films I’ve ever seen. I feel like every second of this movie made me lose brain cells.
I think Ke$ha watches it daily
There really wasn’t a single joke that worked. Hell, the only reason I know they were “jokes” is because every other character on the screen would laugh whenever one happened. I’ve never seen a movie before that had a laugh track. And it didn’t make it any funnier. Watching a bunch of actors pretend to laugh at terrible jokes doesn’t make me enjoy the movie… It makes me angry.
And you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry
How the hell does this movie even get made? Surely someone involved had to know they were putting pure shit on film. These are the guys behind Tommy Boy, Happy Gilmore, Deuce Bigalow, Pootie Tang, and Billy Madison. Then again, these are also the guys behind Click, Paul Blart: Mall Cop, The Animal, Dickie Roberts, and Deuce Bigalow 2. Holy shit these guys have made some terrible films.
Nothing works about this movie. It’s not just bad; it’s painfully bad. This is the kind of movie you show at a party right before everyone drinks the poison Kool-Aid. That’s right: Grown Ups makes suicide seem like the rational option.
And the crazy thing is… a lot of people loved this movie. I just don’t get it. Maybe I’m still too young. Maybe once I’m in my 40′s, I’ll lose the ability to judge humor and I’ll love this movie, along with Wild Hogs, Two and a Half Men, and Are We There Yet? That’s got to be it… you hit a certain age, and your brain just stops processing comedy correctly. That’s the only explanation for this awful, celluloid bile.
Final verdict: This movie is shit, but it’s also a good barometer for age. If you like it, congratulations, you’re officially old and busted. It’s time to hike your pants up and start complaining about loud music, all while waiting for the sweet embrace of death. You have nothing left to look forward to.