Either Adam Sandler was hit by a falling meteor or he was abducted by particularly unpleasant aliens, or both. Whatever happened to him and his mental faculties, the man should not be allowed within a 5-km radius of a Hollywood studio.
Sandler may have once been considered a semi-serious actor with a funny streak ("The Wedding Singer" and "Punch-Drunk Love" come to mind), but his latest vehicle, "Jack and Jill," is a potentially career-sinking torpedo of a stinkbomb. In the United States, this was actually Thanksgiving fare (released Nov. 11) and rated PG. The U.S. army would be well advised to use it as a weapon in the fight against terrorism.
Just to make sure I wasn't the only one suffering from acute chest pains and checking my watch every five seconds, only to be horrified to discover that the movie had just begun, I looked around the screening room, and I saw that many of my fellow critics had closed their eyes, shutting out everything and pretending they were somewhere else. Most likely a world where Sandler does not exist, or one where he's decided to ditch making movies altogether to do volunteer work in Africa.