Ill advised amalgamation of philosophy with playground humour aimed at those too young to know of basic life lessons.

Rating: 5/10 (18 February 2010)

If there's one thing that's a little tough to sit through, then it's an Adam Sandler film in which the majority of the comedy is born out of daft, moronic, frat-boy humour linked to bodily functions; but if there's something that's, arguably, a little tougher to sit through, then it's an Adam Sandler film in which the majority of the comedy is born out of daft, moronic, frat-boy humour linked to bodily functions which doubles up as a life lecture. Many have been fooled, it would seem; many have fallen to the spell of Frank Coraci, the directorial Svengali for Click, the American film from 2006 which panders to two sorts of crowds but cons nobody with any sort of real sense. On the surface, an important 'message movie' about life and how to deal with life and that you should find time for those you love and find time to be patient for those you don't but at the core, a hate-filled; sexist and racist piece that aims pretty low and hits there or there-abouts.
Sandler is indeed the lead in Click, an architect named Michael Newman who spends his days wallowing in his basement attempting to work on a particular project which will see him garner a sort of "mother" of all promotions. He has a family that includes kids whom appear to be interested in a variety of different things; a wife with whom there is a definite connection; a dwelling that is one of 'those' gorgeous, American neighbourhoods and generally seems to be doing pretty well for himself. Despite all this, our Michael is wavering into some sort of depressive state, stating that he really wouldn't mind if his life got a little shorter. One day, sick with all the remote controls in and around the house, systematically getting across a sense of real inability to deal with modernity and those little things that try to make your life a tiny bit easier, he journeys to the local mall in order to find a universal remote; something that can control everything at once. Upon arriving, he meets eccentric technician Morty (Christpher Walken channelling a familiar sort of mad professor act) who gives him a remote that it's eventually revealed can control a lot more than just household electronics.
It's a simple enough premise, and it's delivered with a simple enough aplomb in the early stages as sequences that exist purely to fill up the trailers and TV spots are played out to do with colour saturation; volume; freeze framing and language control. You might be forgiven for thinking that Michael didn't, at some point, merely direct the remote up into the air and push 'channel up', thus shifting everything into an alternate universe-come-network-come-broadcast; the reason for this being that the people inhabiting the universe of Click are odd, strange, scary individuals and all of whose problems are exploited for cheap laughs. Examples of these people arrive in the form of Michael's infantilised secretary persistently asking whether she can take toilet breaks; his parents appearing somewhat verbally abusive; his boss, a certain Mr. Ammer (Hasselhoff), a disgusting concoction of nymphomania blended with resentment and Michael himself carries an odd, sadistic streak in which the infliction of pain on others is a release.
Click sets its stall out pretty early on when it resorts to dog-humping jokes and, for sake of similar laughs, brings on an eight year old boy and has him say a few dirty words. It's mostly unforgivable and unfolds within a world in which most of the women are jaw-droppingly stunning, as well as Arabic businessmen from the Far East whom exist to be mocked, imitated and have their names pronounced incorrectly for easy laughs. It is very much the sort of film attempting to deal with very real and somewhat necessary ideas under this banner of adolescent, 'kick-back and enjoy', narrow-minded entertainment. When Michael shouts at Morty, upon hearing the universal remote is free of charge, "why (he would) want to return something (that was) free of charge", you half expect a little green light to appear in the top corner of the screen exclaiming, for the benefit of those not paying attention, that the film's hypothesis has appeared and everything after this will be a test of the preceding statement.
The message, screaming at the audience loud and clear; a drumming into the audience's heads on what's right and what's not, is that one needs to appreciate the finer things in life and we learn this by way of Michael's fast-forwarding through hard work for promotions; through time spent with the family, no matter how much they might annoy you; through 'quality time' with your spouse and through the little things such as traffic jams, which demand patience as you see something through, in spite of how much of a nuisance it is. After all the schlock humour, Click tries to bail itself out by having its lead suffer a series of epiphanies, but it all rings false; the pseudo-philosophical turn it decides to take when Morty arrives on screen and lays out the entire lesson is cringe-inducing, whilst the overall shift in tact is too disruptive and doesn't work. Click is very much the sort of film people such as Jonah Hill or Katie Cassidy, as well as those kids whom played Michael's children at various stages, if indeed they even have acting careers, may very well look back on in years to come and exclaim: "Yep, the things you've gotta do when you're at the bottom of the chain(!)". Well, maybe someone like Jonah Hill wont. Meanwhile, for attuned acting veterans such as Walken; there's that sense of 'what else is there that's left to achieve in my long and honourable array of credits?' For all the crass humour and sense of hate towards humankind, Click's message of acceptance and tolerance really ought to fall on deaf ears.