Hey folks, Harry here with our Hoodie Award Winning Journalist... Mr Beaks. What is a Hoodie? It has to do with circumcision I think... The details of his award and how he got it are buried in the mystery and lore of Moriarty's Labs... a dank and scary place where whimpers and screams echo amidst the droplets of sewer showers... Speaking of sewer showers, Mr Beaks watched ANGER MANAGEMENT and BULLETPROOF MONK. You may weep for him for one... which one? Guess! Here ya go...

ANGER MANAGEMENT (d. Peter Segal, w. David Dorfman)

As if it isn’t abundantly clear from the television ads that have been assaulting the airwaves over the last few weeks, allow me to assure/caution you that ANGER MANAGEMENT is an Adam Sandler comedy with all the imbecilic trimmings, riddled with juvenile non-sequitors, illogical plot twists, and slumming celebrity cameos. The big joke this time is that Team Sandler has turned one of these cameos into a co-lead, corralling Jack Nicholson to play in the mud with them. All you need is that shot from the teaser of a wild-eyed Jack nodding maniacally as Roger Daltry yowls out at the end of “Won’t Get Fooled Again” to know that it’s going to be a blast, right?

If this were the looser, zanier Sandler of Happy Gilmore, it might’ve been, but this is the cuddlier Adam as portrayed to profitable effect in Big Daddy and Mr. Deeds, and it appears as though he’s found a safe formula that suits him *and* his bottom line. The only deviation from those previous successes is that, for once, he’s working with a genuinely competent director (excepting, of course, his foray into P.T. Anderson-ville) in Peter Segal, making ANGER MANAGEMENT the most well-directed comedy of his oeuvre by relative default. The upside is a modestly enjoyable movie that isn’t marred by awkwardly cut together sequences or abrupt tonal shifts, with the downside being how this sudden professionalism has either straitjacketed Sandler, or simply exposed his universe as a bit of a bore.

This time out, Sandler plays Dave Buznik, a too-nice corporate lackey slaving away as a designer of weight concealing clothes for obese cats. He’s a spectacular pushover; inviting his boss to take credit for his work, while his office rival, Andrew (Allen Covert) is looking to move in on Dave’s girlfriend, Linda (Marisa Tomei). (Andrew’s an especially credible threat due to the illustrious girth of his male member.) But rather than snap under this unremitting string of indignities, Dave just takes it all in stride; that is, until his aggressively passive ways draw him into an improbable confrontation with a bossy flight attendant, resulting in an air rage charge that lands him in an anger management class taught by beloved self-help guru, Buddy Rydell (Nicholson).

Dave does his best to talk his way out of therapy – after all, he’s clearly not an angry man – but Buddy believes otherwise. He sees Dave as a powder keg of swallowed rage, and, therefore, an immediate danger to society; thus, landing Dave in his advanced, one-on-one program, requiring that Buddy move in and observe every aspect of Dave’s life. Cue “The Odd Couple” theme.

The domestic discomfort caused by Buddy’s infringement yields some disappointingly stale comedic bits (Buddy flinging his breakfast against the wall is all Oscar Madison), but their forays into the other aspects of Dave’s life are fitfully amusing. The funniest sequence finds Dave confronting an old childhood bully-turned-Buddhist-monk (John C. Reilly), which sours outrageously thanks to Buddy’s unconstructive prodding. Another bit has Buddy guiding Dave through the successful seduction of a smolderingly hot bar patron played by Heather Graham (who later ends up in a bra-and-panty set that will send Red Sox fans the world over into collective heat). But for every bit of progress Dave makes in Buddy’s course, his well-organized life, once in manageable shape, spins progressively out of control, threatening his job security and the love of his girlfriend to whom he plans to propose.

One of the film’s more appealing aspects is Rydell’s group therapy class, populated by the likes of John Turturro, Luis Guzman and Jonathan Loughran, all in full-on bizarro mode. Their material isn’t the best – in fact, it’s downright uninspired – but they make the most of it through sheer enthusiasm. (The stunt casting helps, too. Turturro picking a fight with a blind barfly wouldn’t be nearly as funny if the blind man weren’t Harry Dean Stanton.) Sure to be the favorite of all male viewers are Krista Allen and January Jones as a perpetually lip-locked pair of porn stars prone to assaulting unfortunate threesome invitees in a jealous fit of pique. Kudos to the casting director(s), in particular, for snagging Allen, who seems to be a men’s magazine superstar nowadays.

Amazingly, though, ANGER MANAGEMENT manages to stay afloat despite its notable lack of comedic invention. As with most of Sandler’s vehicles, this must be attributed to the actor’s unconventional, but undeniable, charm. There are people who will hate Sandler in everything; people for whom everything he does is the galling epitome of all that’s wrong with comedy, but I’m not one of them. I’ve liked the guy since his early “Remote Control” appearances, through to his scattershot comedy LP’s and subsequent movies. And that’s solely attributable to his charm. Even though his screen persona seems forever on the verge of violent outburst, there’s something inherently winning about Sandler-as-everyman. He’s us on our worst day; railing against the torrent of minor injustices randomly thrown in our way. And he’s also us at our most embarrassing; fumbling to find the right words when faced with adversity, and coming up with cosmically wrong answers.

But, loveable as he is, the current act is going to curdle fast, particularly if the material continues to be this limp. It’s could be a very short trip from THE BELLBOY to HARDLY WORKING. Let’s hope P.T. Anderson isn’t the only one to realize that Adam Sandler, and I’m fully prepared to be roasted for this, is one of our generation’s great clowns.

Because there is no logical segue into the next film, here are Ron Hassey’s lifetime statistics.

BULLETPROOF MONK (d. Paul Hunter, w. Ethan Reiff & Cyris Voris)