I have to confess, I never really got the Sandman for a while. Being that we never really got SNL over here and I was also unfamiliar with his stand up, the irrepressible, unstoppable force of comedy known as Adam Sandler was something of an annoying mystery to me and his eventual rise to becoming one of the few, bankable comedy stars left on the planet didn’t manage to overcome the fact that flicks like Billy Madison, Big Daddy and The Waterboy left me colder than penguin poop – although, much like everyone else, I did like The Wedding Singer.
However, standing fast to dump all my opinions into the nearest sand trap what Happy Gilmore, the film that still remains the single greatest showcase for what exactly makes Sandler so beloved. Where Jack Black had School Of Rock, Jim Carrey had Ace Ventura and Steve Martin had The Jerk, if you need a one stop, drop to completely explain a comedian’s style on a single sitting, then teeing off with Happy Gilmore will tell you everything you needed to know.
Happy Gilmore is an aspiring ice hockey player who finds that his devestating slap shot is nullified by the fact that he’s utter shit. Plus, it also doesn’t help that his temper is quicker to ignite than a crashed car in a Michael Bay movie and the more frustrated he gets, the worse he plays and matters get even more tense when Happy discovers that his beloved grandma owes the IRS $270,000 in back taxes. On the verge of losing her house in 90 days and facing a dire future in retirement home that doubles as a sweat shop when nobody is looking, Gilmore has to find funds fast – but how?
After making a random bet with some movers, Happy discovers that his ice hockey skills might now have helped him play hockey, but his ability to snapshot like a missile means that he can drive a golf ball like nobody’s business and he figures he can make some kick cash hustling at the local driving range. Enter Cubbs Peterson, former golf pro who had to quit after losing a hand to an alligator attack, who sees gold in Happy’s aggressive playing style and urges the green ball whacker to enter the Waterbury Open where the winner automatically gets a spot on the PGA Tour.
Even though Happy’s putting leaves a lot to be desired, he’s an instant sensation to the crowds who see his blue collar, foul mouthed antics a breath of fresh air. This however angers the tour’s arrogant favorite to win, Shooter McGavin, who sees the “riff raff” Happy is attracting to the sport and he soon starts scheming ways to get his short tempered nemesis disqualified.
Can Happy refine his style to win the tournament, save his nana’s house, do Chubbs proud, survive a vicious brawl with gameshow host Bob Barker and vanquish Shooter McGavin to save the day?
If we were to strip Happy Gilmore down to its most basic roots, what we have is the natural successor to that other, classic, golf comedy, Caddyshack. Think about it; there’s the golf connection (obviously), but beyond that it’s also headlined by an SNL alumni and the main thrust of its plot is a similar class war between the stuck up rich guys and the blue collar, beer drinkers who believe that we should all screw decorum and start showing our appreciation by whooping shit up. However, while Caddyshack had the benefit of a comedy ensemble, all Happy Gilmore needs is Sandler’s potent everyman shtick to make it onto the green and despite a range of jokes that range from legitimate genius to utterly puerile, it’s the lead shifting from lackadaisical leading man to a ball of frustrated male rage that score all the best moments.
Of course, it’s not a one-man show as Julie Bowen gives spunky leading woman, Carl Weathers scores as an excitable mentor and Christopher McDonald is splendidly hissable as smug, finger-guns waving, Shooter McGavin and if we look elsewhere, Sandler’s love for random cameos also includes Ben Stiller’s extravagantly mustached orderly who is big into the mistreatment of the elderly. However, it’s Sandler’s show and he ably lays down his comedy leading man credentials without having to resort to one of his silly voice roles that usually tend to irritate me. Still, it’s amazing how many times Sandler has fallen back on the good old sports movie trope to be the backdrop of one of his films.
Still, laughs are the name of the game here and Happy Gilmore manages to score some cracking ones – in fact, I have to confess that I truly don’t think there’s been a better comeback in cinema history than when Shooter arrogant declares “I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast.”, to which Happy fires back, “You eat pieces of shit for breakfast?”. Imagine if you ever pulled off a comeback like that; you’d dine out on that damn story for years. Beyond that we go from embrassment humour as we watch Gilmore stumble through the rules golf (not knowing that he has to supply his own caddy, he simply hires the services of a homeless guy rooting through the bins out front), to even surreal slapstick when he finds himself in a knock-down fist fight with legendary The Price Is Right Host, Bob Barker (“The price is wrong, bitch.”). And yet, possibly the most impressive aspect of the film is how Sandler takes a man with such a short temper that he screams point blank at a golf ball that refuses to drop and threatens Shooter with a broken glass bottle, but still somehow manages to make him utterly beguiling and incredibly charming.
Does the film have limitations? Well yeah, but nothing damning. For a start, seeing as the classic sport success story is all present and correct here, director Dennis Dugan figures if things ain’t broke, he probably shouldn’t try to fix it and as a result, the plot itself offers less surprises than a surprise birthday party you’ve had to organize for yourself. Also, the film sometimes forgets to give some of its plotlines the endings they truly deserve: what, are you telling me that no one genuinely thought to whip up a handy comeuppance for Stiller’s epically abusive orderly? Seriously? That guy is in dire need of some payback probably more than any other comedy character of the nineties.
However, no one has ever penalised a silly little comedy for such things – or, at least, I feel they really shouldn’t – as the real indicator of quality here doesn’t lie in plot mechanics, but in the sheer quality of the laughs and it’s here where Happy Gilmore truly scores a hole in one. Insanely likable, endearingly quotable and the perfect entry point anyone hoping to sample the Sandman’s particular style of comedy. So prepare to enter your ultimate Happy place and repeat after me… it’s all in the hips.
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