In the endless avalanche of legacy sequels, follow-ups to cult classic comedies have proved particularly tough to crack. “Anchorman 2,” “Space Jam: A New Legacy,” whatever the Ghostbusters saga has become — all fall victim to the same errant instincts. Plot beats play on repeat. Callbacks and cameos run rampant. Scrappy irreverence gives way to overstuffed bombast.
Judged by that mediocre handicap, “Happy Gilmore 2” is par for the course. Again starring Adam Sandler as the titular pro golfer — a hockey-loving bruiser with a mean drive and an off-the-handle temper — the Netflix sequel to 1996’s absurdist favorite makes for a perfectly diverting visit to the back nine of Happy’s career. But even as the cackles arrive at a reasonable clip and a handful of Easter eggs pay off handsomely, this laugher is so preoccupied with trying to echo the first movie’s gags that it neglects to carve out an identity of its own. Rather than aim for the flagstick, “Happy Gilmore 2” seems all too content to lay up in search of one gimme putt after another.
A key miscalculation: Death looms oddly large over the Kyle Newacheck-directed film. Sure, several admired actors from the original have died in the intervening decades. But instead of writing around those absences, Sandler and returning co-writer Tim Herlihy get lost in the macabre. On three occasions, a new character is revealed to be the son of a fan favorite played by a late actor. (This includes Lavell Crawford slipping into Carl Weathers’s shoes — and wooden hand — as Chubbs Peterson’s son, Slim.) As Happy and rival Shooter McGavin (Christopher McDonald) come to blows in a cemetery, the camera dwells on the headstone of many a figure from the first film.
But most inexcusably, “Happy Gilmore 2” takes one returning character whose actor is alive and well and as sharply funny as ever — Happy’s wife, Virginia (Julie Bowen) — and promptly dispatches her with a fatal golf ball strike. Turning to another legacy sequel trope, the opening undoes the previous installment’s happily ever after, resets the status quo and turns our hero into a broken man searching for redemption.
When we catch up with a 58-year-old Happy, the six-time Tour Championship winner hasn’t picked up a golf club in a decade. Having lost his grandma’s house and squandered his winnings, Happy makes a living stocking shelves between sips from clandestine flasks (hidden, in one of the movie’s better bits, inside a cucumber, binoculars, his golf ball and more). While his four rough-and-tumble sons are content with their lot in life, his only daughter (played by Sandler’s real-life child Sunny) dreams of a pricey Parisian ballet school that sends Happy back to the tour. (Sandler’s oldest daughter, Sadie, and wife, Jackie, also appear.)
Unfortunately, Bowen’s Virginia isn’t the only returning character “Happy Gilmore 2” doesn’t know what to do with. Although McDonald seamlessly slips back into Shooter’s squirrelly brand of pompous indignation, his underbaked arc — from revenge-minded pariah to unlikely ally — heads nowhere in a hurry. Among the first movie’s antagonists, it’s Ben Stiller’s sadistic orderly who gets the most amusing encore.
Of course, room needs to be made for newcomers, including Bad Bunny’s eager-to-please caddie and Benny Safdie’s smarmy impresario. Then there’s the parade of athlete cameos, which run the gamut from endearing to exhausting.
The good? John Daly (hilariously riffing on his hot-mess image), Scottie Scheffler (nodding to his famous run-in with law enforcement) and Will Zalatoris (whose role is best left unspoiled). The bad? Travis Kelce, who gamely gives his all to uninspired material. The ugly? Bryson DeChambeau, a face of the Saudi-funded LIV Golf tour, who ironically appears here to help Happy take down a gaudy breakaway circuit. If the movie aspired to have some teeth and comment on the divided state of modern golf, DeChambeau’s presence defangs it.
It speaks to the beloved stature of “Happy Gilmore” that the likes of Margaret Qualley and Eric André pop up for fleeting appearances as Happy’s playing partners at a municipal course. Completing that foursome? Herlihy’s son, Martin, who expresses a sentiment sure to be shared by some franchise die-hards: “Happy Gilmore sucks now?” Not exactly. But for this long-gestating return to the course, he sure could’ve used a mulligan.
PG-13. Available on Netflix. Contains strong language, crude material, partial nudity and gratuitous nostalgia. 117 minutes.
