Oh mediocrity, why do you plague talent so? Look what you've done. You've taken Adam Sandler - whose early films "Billy Madison" and "Happy Gilmore" struck chords of pure, insane laughter - and taken over his career.
It started with "The Waterboy," and last year we all hoped it would be over after "Mr. Deeds," but no. Now you've dragged the legendary Jack Nicholson into the mix and decided to waste both of their talents. For shame.
Dave Buznik (Sandler) is a nice guy who continually gets dumped. His girlfriend (Marisa Tomei) understands his sensitivity but won't let it compromise her friendship with her old college sweetheart, Andrew (Allen Covert).
A chance encounter with Andrew in the bathroom furthers Dave's uneasiness as a moment of urinal glancing reveals Andrew has a unit on him that would make John Holmes gasp.
At work, Dave designs clothing for felines (a very funny gimmick) while his boss lets the promise of a promotion loom over his head unfulfilled because Dave just won't stick up for himself.
When a misunderstanding on an airline (he is accused of assaulting a stewardess) lands him in anger management class, Dr. Buddy Rydell (Nicholson) assures him he will not need to be in the class for long, a promise he soon breaks as he recommends Dave take part in his unconventional extensive treatment program.
It sounds really promising. And when Nicholson is on the screen those promises are met. The actor is obviously having a great time, exhibiting a degree of insane charisma reminiscent of the Joker in "Batman."
He's constantly grinning and forcing Sandler's character into uncomfortable situations with the constant threat of prison. He makes him pick up a girl with the line, "I'm about to explode in my pants," confront his childhood nemesis, now a Buddhist monk, and proposition a German transvestite prostitute (Woody Harrelson is a good sport in a cameo appearance).
The film's other source of hilarity comes form Rydell's class itself.
John Tuturro evokes his Jesus character from "The Big Lebowski" as an anger junkie experiencing combat flashbacks from Grenada ("Wasn't that only, like, 12 hours?" Sandler said).
A pair of hot, masochistic lesbian porn stars adds more color, mostly because they are dead-on stereotypes.
But for every good point there are several bad points, and that is what makes "Anger Management" such a disappointment. Sandler's character is a quiet little wiener of a man, the kind of guy who takes guff from everyone without saying anything - the kind of person who could very well shoot up a post office one day.
Because of this, Sandler does not say too much, which is a shame because whenever Nicholson or Tuturro are not on the screen (which is unfortunately a good portion of the time) Sandler has trouble holding the show down.
The directing and writing also leave something to be desired. Everything is obvious.
Sandler's psychological refusal to kiss his girlfriend in public sets up a very predictable ending, made all the cornier with an extended cameo by former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani and countless shameless advertisements for the military ("Be All You Can Be" posters are visible in a handful of scenes).
A very promising first half gives way to a been-there-done-that second half, and the last 20 minutes or so somehow morph into something out of chick-movie hell.
It is as if the projectionist switched roles and is sitting in the theater laughing as one movie becomes something completely different and decidedly stale.
If you liked this, you might also like: Hell, do yourself a favor and rent the Sandler classic "Billy Madison."
Suggested Viewing: Take a nap during scenes where Nicholson or Tuturro are not around.
