If You Care About Yourself, You Won’t See This Movie

Membership Ticker

David Corn,
Washington, DC, bureau chief

Dear reader,

This is how it works. The big lie. The endless spin. The outright denial of facts. Again and again and again. In "William Barr's War on Reality, Truth, and the Law," I break down how far the attorney general is willing to go to erase the truth in order to protect the president. I hope you'll give it a read. And if you think we need more reporting that isn't afraid to call a lie a lie, I hope you'll pitch in with a year-end donation so we can reach our big $600,000 goal this month and keep on charging ahead in 2020.

David Corn doesn't mince words because thanks to support from readers, we don't have to. Read his latest about the treachery in the Trump administration, and please support Mother Jones' journalism that calls a lie a lie with a year-end donation today.

Ugh.Photo courtesy of Columbia Pictures

That’s My Boy
Columbia Pictures
114 minutes

The new Adam Sandler flick That’s My Boy is one of the most oppressively unfunny films ever produced, reaching levels of jaw-dropping unwatchability that rival 2002’s The Sweetest Thing.

I could detail for you the dumb, gossamer storyline, but what would be the point? That’s My Boy stars Adam Sandler (remember when he was in Punch-Drunk Love?), playing a hybrid of Dickie Roberts and a bad Good Will Hunting parody. Andy Samberg co-stars, presumably trying to win a bet he drunkenly made with friends who thought he couldn’t make a movie worse than Hot Rod. James Caan and Susan Sarandon are also in the movie, for god knows what reasons. What follows is a long slog of vulgarity-to-nowhere. There is not one boob joke, fart joke, hard-on joke, masturbation joke, trailer-trash joke, pube joke, bunghole joke, cunnilingus joke, sex-with-your-mom joke, vomit joke, incest joke, or obesity joke in this that isn’t unpardonably stale.

To add shotgun-to-the-kneecap to injury, Vanilla Ice (Vanilla Ice) plays himself.

If you care about yourself, you will not see this movie ever. It is tailor-made to be consumed by the kind of grown men who will only eat chicken nuggets if they’re shaped like dinosaurs, and there are times when the film honestly feels like physical torture.

Here’s a redband TV spot for the damn thing:

That’s My Boy gets a wide release on Friday, June 15. The film is rated R for crude sexual content throughout, nudity, pervasive language and some drug use. Click here if you hate yourself and want to get local showtimes and tickets.

Click here for more movie and TV features from Mother Jones. To read more of Asawin’s reviews, click here.