The diehards who were fans of the original Grown Ups have to be howling at the major continuity issue that plagues this summer’s Grown Ups 2. Where is Rob Schneider? The first film centered around Adam Sandler and his celebrity friends as lifelong acquaintances from high school, suggesting Schneider’s Rob Hilliard was a significant spoke in the wheel, part of the glue that held that first film together. Schneider, who once famously introduced his home on an episode of MTV’s Cribs as “the house that Sandler built,” was one of a core five that included fellow Saturday Night Live vets Chris Rock and David Spade, as well as Kevin James (warming a seat in place of the late Chris Farley, at least from a spiritual perspective). When ads circulated for the follow-up, we all breathlessly feared the tragic truth: Schneider was missing. Having seen the film, I can solemnly confirm that Schneider is wholly absent from the narrative and no character even mentions him in passing.
Because Grown Ups 2 is barely a movie, substance-less to the core, that mystery gnaws at you. The mythology of the Grown Ups universe has been shattered, the unexplained disappearance of the good Mr. Schneider an unfortunate turn of events. What is to make of a film that had no use for the talent that once starred in two Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo films? How could the film still work without the legend behind The Hot Chick? If a character entered an office, would the temptation to shout, “Makin’ copies!” be in poor taste? Moreover, the film has an even stronger “the gang’s all here” flavor, with each peripheral character having attended the same high school, making this an unofficial “reunion” picture. Does anyone want to give any lip service to the fact that old buddy Rob is completely missing, maybe even dead? Perhaps on vacation? Maybe not living an existence where bumping into old high school friends is cause for celebration and never at any point a sad moment of reflection or mortality?
Schneider couldn’t have been displeased about dialogue or screentime. It seems very much that his lines have been repurposed and granted to other actors and characters in the ensemble. For a while the fifth banana in the group is a heavily medicated moron represented by non-talent Nick Swarsdon, but as he fades into the background, it seems like it could be Officer Peter Dante, played by Sandler regular Peter Dante. Soon, the major addition to the group is Shaquille O’Neal, as a former classmate-turned-officer who confirms what Inside The NBA viewers have known for a while: for a comedian, he makes an excellent basketball player. O’Neal has as many lines, if slightly more, than his brother in the narrative, a townie played by Tim Meadows. This despite the fact that Meadows was a key member of SNL, the world’s premiere sketch show, for nine entire years, and Shaquille O’Neal once starred in Kazaam. ESPN’s Chris Berman and Dan Patrick also show up for yuks and laughs, each with a couple of laugh lines, Berman with a fake mustache and Patrick with an artificial bulge in his shorts. Professional funnymen and fellow SNL vets Will Forte and Paul Brittan? No lines between them.
Grown Ups was mostly a hangout comedy for Sandler and company to relax, shoot the shit and wait for tension to bubble over between his crew and the resentful middle-to-lower class local opposition. In Grown Ups 2, even that resentment seems to have dissipated, with everyone now friends in the wake of the first picture’s climactic ballgame. Now that former Los Angeles family man Lenny (Sandler) has permanently moved back home, he has to deal with the awkwardness of encountering everyone from his graduating class, still living in the same place. This isn’t much of an issue until he reunites with the bully that made his life difficult in school, a bruiser now played by wrestler Steve Austin in maybe the film’s easiest role as a guy dying to punch Adam Sandler in the face. This conflict is leavened by Austin’s wife leading the children’s ballet recital, and providing a figure to ogle with masturbatory glee by the lecherous leading men, all of whom seem old enough to be her father.
The appeal of Grown Ups thus far seems to stem from grown men who like to tell dirty jokes by the barbeque and wear flip-flops as if that wasn’t disgusting to the naked eye. Perhaps jettisoning the willfully weird Rob Hilliard character was a move towards a more believable suburban peace, particularly because he seemed both the least sexual and the least parental. The new film pivots on the parenting abilities of these slobs, never once realistically addressing the sacrifice and morality of such a thing, instead opting to soft-shoe around problems and present solutions of convenience. Sandler’s mousy young sons seem to have lady and bully trouble, but these problems vanish through happy coincidences. Kurt (Rock) copes with a daughter beginning to date Meadows’ son, a rapping Humpty Hump wannabe who somehow charms her because this is a movie where unattractive men routinely form unions with supermodel-level women. Eric (James) is dealing with a possibly retarded son who just turns out to be a goofy savant, while his daughter deals with self-esteem issues that must have been left on the cutting room floor. And Higgins (Spade) is meeting his teenage son years after he’s been abandoned; the boy turns out to be a murderous giant, but apparently all he needs to hear is one of his father’s lousy jokes to turn to mush.
The main conflict eventually sets off a third act brawl, which scrapes the bottom of the barrel as far as pointless, no consequence incidents of violence in Happy Madison productions are concerned. It involves the building drama between the parents and a group of belligerent frat boys. They’re led by Taylor Lautner, who’s presence here seems to be to prove he’s more than a pretty face by possibly performing the most consecutive backflips ever seen in a studio film. To devote so much time to the kids of the stars in this film, only to turn around and shrug as said stars punch out college-age hooligans only slightly hovering around the drinking age is just one of those bizarre contradictions, suggesting that the gang behind these movies genuinely does not care. Then again, this is a movie that ends with a character farting on the great Salma Hayek. Maybe this isn’t disinterest and dispassion. Maybe this is simple plain malice. Maybe Rob knew what he was doing after all.
Den of Geek Rating: Zero Stars, and May God Have Mercy On Your Soul
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