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    25 Biggest Oscar Snubs of All Time

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    Every year since the Academy Awards were invented, somebody has been overlooked, ignored, passed over, disregarded or brushed off. You know what they say about beauty and beholders.But perceived Oscar omissions — snubs, as we have come to call them — have grown into a frenzied annual conversation, with people left off the nomination list, or nominated but denied a statuette, sometimes receiving as much attention, or more, as those who win.These are the 25 true snubs and unjust losses that Times film critics, columnists, writers and editors still can’t get over. Read more →‘Do the Right Thing’ for Best Picture (1990)Actual winner: “Driving Miss Daisy”Spike Lee and Danny Aiello in the Brooklyn-set drama.Universal PicturesSome people hated this movie. Others, more ominously, feared it, or claimed to. News articles and reviews imagined riots sprouting in its wake (they never came), seeing in the character of Mookie — who, in a fit of righteous fury, smashes a pizzeria window in the film’s famous climax — confirmation of Lee’s insidious intent. Did academy voters have similar misgivings? Lee, who was shut out of the directing category, did receive a nomination for his screenplay, suggesting at least one branch of the organization had his back. (Danny Aiello was also nominated for supporting actor.) But it’s hard to look at the eventual best picture winner, “Driving Miss Daisy” — a film in which Morgan Freeman plays Hoke Colburn, the patient chauffeur of a bigoted, elderly white woman — and not see a statement of preference. In 1990, it was the Hoke Colburns of the world, not the Mookies, who were welcome on the academy’s biggest stage. REGGIE UGWU, pop culture reporterWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      Adam Sandler’s ‘Spaceman’ Has an Identity Crisis, Like Many Space Movies

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      With the release of Adam Sandler’s odd, middling and expensive new Netflix film, a look at space movie misfires of the past and how history repeats itself.Not long into “Spaceman,” Adam Sandler’s new somber sci-fi space movie on Netflix, it becomes quite clear that it’s struggling to channel something greater, something better, something already respected.Sandler’s character, a Czech cosmonaut named Jakub, has spent many months alone in a ship investigating a mysterious purple cloud — alone except for an alien arachnid called Hanus (voiced by Paul Dano). Hanus speaks to Jakub — about fear, guilt, pain and the origins of the universe — in a soothing yet stilted tone, evoking the voice of HAL 9000, the conflicted A.I. entity in Stanley Kubrick’s “2001: A Space Odyssey,” from 1968.The central themes in “Spaceman,” loneliness and disconnection, are fundamental in many cerebral space movies including “2001,” but perhaps more so in Andrei Tarkovsky’s 1972 Soviet space drama, “Solaris,” about a small crew of scientists who come mentally undone. “Spaceman” also has some “Gravity,” some “Interstellar,” some “First Man,” some “Ad Astra,” the New York Times film critic Alissa Wilkinson wrote in her review.Many middling sci-fi space movies have faced such fates: measured not by what they are but by what they wished they were. Often these films have the potential to be brilliant. “Spaceman” was directed by Johan Renck, who won two Emmys in 2019 for his work on the HBO mini-series “Chernobyl”; Sandler, while a comedian, has soared in complex dramatic roles, notably in “Uncut Gems” and “Punch-Drunk Love”; Jakub’s wife is played by Carey Mulligan, who is up for a best actress Oscar this month for “Maestro.”What is toughest to forgive, though, is that “Spaceman” commits the biggest movie no-no of all: It’s boring. “It is not fun-bad,” Wilkinson writes. “It is maudlin-bad, belabored-bad and also pretty boring-bad.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      ‘Spaceman’ Review: What Happened Here?

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      Adam Sandler and Carey Mulligan star in a baffling Netflix misfire about a man in, well, space.When was the last time you looked at the exquisite list of synonyms for the word “baffled”? They may be among the best in the English language: puzzled, nonplused, discombobulated, flummoxed, stumped, fogged, wildered, buffaloed. They’re delicious, delightful, full of consonants, evocative of a very particular feeling: you’re presented with something that seems as though it should be clear, but you can’t make it make sense.The occasion for my bout of word nerdery is the Adam Sandler movie “Spaceman,” and for that I thank the film. It is not a particularly confusing movie on its own, in part because we’ve seen its likes before: a spaceman, alone in the inky blackness, goes a little nuts, and also gains clarity on his life back on earth. What’s flummoxing about “Spaceman” isn’t what it is, but why it is.Some bad movies were never going to be good (“Argylle”). Other bad movies never even tried (“Madame Web”). But “Spaceman” is that exquisite rare third thing — an awful movie, a very bad movie indeed, whose lousiness was almost certainly not apparent while it was in production.Every sign points toward, if not a masterpiece, at least a pretty interesting genre experiment. The film has Sandler, whose acting chops are often underrated, in a dramatic role as the titular spaceman, whose name is Jakub. It has the great Carey Mulligan, who is currently up for a best actress Oscar, playing his estranged, pregnant wife Lenka. It is scored by the ubiquitous Max Richter. Its director, Johan Renck, also directed the outstanding mini-series “Chernobyl,” among the best television made in the past decade. And though it’s the screenwriter Colby Day’s first major feature, it’s based on Jaroslav Kalfar’s novel “Spaceman of Bohemia,” which won praise from science fiction critics.I haven’t read Kalfar’s book, but a critic at The Guardian called it “‘Solaris’ with laughs,” which gives me a clue as to what may have gone awry. There’s some “Solaris” swimming around inside “Spaceman,” and also some “Gravity,” some “Interstellar,” some “First Man,” some “Ad Astra.” What there aren’t are laughs.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      At the Berlin Film Festival, Reconsidering the Power of Doubt

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      At a festival that is having an identity crisis, some of the best movies suggest that lacking certainty isn’t always a bad thing.Doubt gets a bad rap. Doubt is fussy and forgetful, whereas certainty strides around, all action and achievement. As a film critic, swift, declarative certainty is a quality I’ve learned to aspire to. And at times, to fake.But this year’s Berlin International Film Festival, which runs through Sunday, has been buffeted outside and in by political turbulence and organizational shake-ups. And so perhaps because the event itself is experiencing such uncertain times, the films made me reconsider — actually, doubt — my dismissive stance on doubt.Doubt is etched on Cillian Murphy’s hollow, striking features in Tim Mielants’s grave and moving “Small Things Like These,” which opened the festival last week. Based on a novella by Claire Keegan — whose “The Quiet Girl” was adapted into an Oscar-nominated feature in 2022 — the film is set in 1985 in the town of New Ross, Ireland, which is home to one of the Magdalene laundries, the infamously abusive church-run institutions to which pregnant, unwed women and girls were sent in shame to have their babies, who were then taken from them. In this case, the chief perpetrator of the abuse is Sister Mary (a frostbitten Emily Watson), who has clearly never had a doubt in her life. But the movie is really about Murphy’s quietly anguished coal deliveryman, Bill, and his deepening crisis of conscience.It takes considerable bravery for Bill to go against the unspoken rules of a community conspiring in silence. But as a man and a family patriarch, it is an avenue available to him. In Maryam Moghadam and Behtash Sanaeeha’s sweet and funny “My Favourite Cake,” the options are different for the Tehran-based widow Mahin (Lily Farhadpour), even if her spirit, too, is chafing against an oppressive religious social order. Her instantaneous love connection with a similarly lonely taxi driver challenges Iranian conventions in this glowingly performed rom-com that turns unnecessarily dark late on, when Mahin is punished for the act of gentle rebellion that the movie otherwise celebrates.Lily Farhadpour, left, in “My Favorite Cake,” directed by Maryam Moghadam and Behtash Sanaeeha.Hamid JanipourFor a more satisfying, if low-key, depiction of lonely social outcasts finding a spark of solace in each other, there is the Japanese director Sho Miyake’s lovely “All The Long Nights.” Mone Kamishiraishi plays Misa, whose debilitating, personality-altering PMS makes adhering to Japan’s rigid codes of politeness mortifyingly difficult. But the friendship she strikes up with a co-worker who is plagued with panic attacks becomes a source of mutual support: It will likely be one of the most touching platonic relationships of the moviegoing year.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      Two New Books Consider Comedy and the Culture Wars

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      The authors of “Comedy Book” and “Outrageous” argue that culture-war worries about what’s a laughing matter have been overplayed.COMEDY BOOK: How Comedy Conquered Culture — and the Magic That Makes It Work, by Jesse David FoxOUTRAGEOUS: A History of Showbiz and the Culture Wars, by Kliph NesteroffDid you hear the one about cancel culture?Of course you did, several times over, if you’ve paid any attention to modern comedy and its purveyors, many of whom have groused about how hard it is to be funny in today’s climate. But two new books share an exasperation with the common sentiment that there’s never been a worse time to express oneself than the present. Taking them, well, seriously can liberate us from repeating the past.Kliph Nesteroff’s fact-packed “Outrageous: A History of Showbiz and the Culture Wars” finds American entertainers in a perpetual state of despair over the censorious climate of their day — whatever day it happens to be. Steve Allen, the original host of “The Tonight Show,” complained about the “very touchy times” in 1955; in 2015, Jerry Seinfeld said he’d been warned away from playing colleges because of students’ sensitivities.Social media “gives the impression that people are more irrational, humorless and overly sensitive than in the past,” Nesteroff writes, but vintage letters to the editor contain “remarkably similar” sentiments.To Jesse David Fox, the author of “Comedy Book,” the risk of backlash is part of the point. Fox, a senior editor at New York magazine’s Vulture and a podcaster who regularly interviews comedians, puts it this way: “Does political correctness make comedy harder to do? Sure, in the sense that it would be easier to run for a touchdown if you didn’t have to worry about holding the ball, but that’s the game. It’s what makes it more exciting than watching a bunch of men sprinting with helmets on.” This is just one example of Fox’s keen insight in his energetic and wise book, which focuses on the ’90s and beyond, when, the author reckons, comedy became an “ever-present, important, valued societal force.” (Fox points out that before “Seinfeld” premiered in 1989, no comedian had ever headlined a show at Madison Square Garden’s arena, yet by the time he wrote his book, 18 had.) Within broadly named chapters (“Truth,” “Context,” “Audience”), he crams vivid examples; his “Timing” section, which explores 9/11 jokes and the notion of “too soon,” is particularly adept at illustrating the use of humor in the face of tragedy.Like many of his subjects, Fox knows his way around a pointed one-liner. “A roast might sound mean, but it’s another way of saying ‘I see you’” is one. “If you are saying supposedly offensive things and the audience is instantly all onboard, it is not a comedy show, it’s a rally” is another. That such rigorous thinking should at one point lead him to defend an Adam Sandler poop joke is a great gag in itself.Fox is allergic to the kind of snobbery directed at broad comedy, maintaining that “if it’s funny to anyone, it’s funny.” Still, he’s interested in parameters — how “8:46,” Dave Chappelle’s Netflix monologue inspired by the murder of George Floyd, functions as “a piece of work in conversation with the history of comedy,” and why the same comedian’s jokes targeting queer people fall short.Comedy, Fox writes, is fundamentally play, and in his deft hands, the analysis of comedy can be playful, too. Fox knows that grand pronouncements on what makes funny things funny is dicey territory: “The sense of what is funny is so subjective — so completely built into your person — that it feels objective,” he writes.His own life experiences and tastes are integral to his reporting. The first and last chapters of the book recount the deaths of immediate family members, which, he says, comedy helped him process. “Comedy Book” is not the definitive history of the past three-plus decades. It’s Fox’s history, and better for it.“Outrageous,” the product of herculean research, has a wider purview than just comedy. Nesteroff touches on rock ’n’ roll, talk radio, the initial blowback received by early critics of Hitler and more.However, what does and doesn’t, should and shouldn’t, make us laugh does take up a lot of space (Nesteroff’s 2015 “The Comedians” is a full-fledged history of the form). Sometimes the laughs are inadvertent, as in a 1959 complaint from a viewer of the TV series “Lassie” who compared its portrayal of a litter of puppies to a sex show.In no-frills prose, Nesteroff races through some two centuries of expression and backlash — from blackface minstrelsy (criticized early on by Frederick Douglass) to the (formerly Dixie) Chicks (the country music trio whose titanic profile shrank several sizes after its lead singer publicly criticized President George W. Bush) — rarely pausing for analysis and sometimes breezing by useful context. The book tends to home in on the moment when each brouhaha reached a fever pitch, which can give a distorted picture of the controversies and their ensuing fallouts.“Outrageous” is nonetheless a useful compendium. Placing so many outrages next to one another exposes a call-and-response pattern, in which both sides of the political divide have tried to dictate acceptable speech for all. We may be partial to the intentions of one side, but the mechanics often look identical.Unsurprisingly, it’s those already in power who often succeed. If there is a main character in Nesteroff’s sea of stories, it’s Paul Weyrich, a John Birch Society alum who helped build “an elaborate Culture War infrastructure” with corporate cash and evangelical muscle, eventually cofounding the Heritage Foundation and the Moral Majority.In sometimes clandestine ways, those groups have had a major impact in seeding American culture with conservative ideology, raging against what Weyrich called “the Cultural Marxism of an elite few to dictate words, language and opinions” while, Nesteroff writes, doing precisely that.“Outrageous” portrays a country divided; there’s no shortage of strife in Fox’s book, but he believes fundamentally in the unifying power of comedy, which “smooths conflicts and unites disparate groups.” His faith is contagious. Comedy is not stifled, he argues, but has “enmeshed itself in how millennials and now Gen Z communicate.” Superstars like Chappelle and Amy Schumer are endowed with the kind of trusted status once reserved for those in the purported truth business, like journalists, public intellectuals and politicians.“Can comedy make everything all better?” Fox asks in conclusion. “Of course not. But it makes it easier.”COMEDY BOOK: How Comedy Conquered Culture — and the Magic That Makes It Work | More

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      ‘Leo’ Review: Adam Sandler as a Gruff Lizard, Dishing Advice

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      Adam Sandler plays a gruff old lizard who dishes out advice to fifth graders in this animated comedy.Adam Sandler stars in “Leo” as a grumpy lizard who has spent his entire life in the terrarium of a fifth-grade classroom. He’s been joined by a turtle named Squirtle (Bill Burr), and the two are mostly content to stare out the glass, year after year, commenting like Statler and Waldorf on the various tween archetypes that show up on the first day of school: the motormouth, the class clown, the kid with helicopter parents who’s allergic to everything. But the bubble bursts for Sandler’s Leo when he realizes that he’s approaching 75 — the average life span for his species — and has hardly gotten to live out his dreams as a free lizard.Leo sees an opportunity with the arrival of a no-nonsense substitute teacher, Ms. Malkin (Cecily Strong), after the usual instructor goes on maternity leave. Along with implementing a stricter disciplinary system, she assigns her students at the Florida school to take turns bringing Leo home, caring for him as their own pet. The kids are dismayed, until one of them, the chatty Summer (voiced by Sandler’s daughter Sunny), discovers that the seemingly docile lizard can talk, and begins to open up to him about her problems. Leo, finding fulfillment in his new task, takes on the role of therapist each week, dishing out advice and convincing each student that they’re the only one who can hear him speak.“Leo” is the second animated film from Sandler’s creative house Happy Madison Productions and his newest release for Netflix. Unlike the company’s first foray into animation, the raunchy 2002 Hanukkah flick “Eight Crazy Nights,” “Leo” aims for wholesome family entertainment, combining themes like the challenges of growing older with a healthy dose of G-rated toilet humor (and a few double entendres that will go over kids’ heads).Sandler does a fine job as the voice of Leo, delivering a good mix of gruffness and sweetness into an absurd scenario. The kids in “Leo” confide in him their desire to be understood by their parents and peers, and the film drives home the overdone but nonetheless true message that everyone faces this struggle — even popular girls like Jayda (played by Sandler’s other daughter, Sadie). These tender moments are punctuated by several original songs — yes, “Leo” is a full-blown musical — and a plethora of running gags, like portraying the school’s kindergartners as wide-eyed bobbleheads crashing into walls.Written by Sandler, Paul Sado, and Robert Smigel (who also directed the film with Robert Marianetti and David Wachtenheim), “Leo” sometimes has trouble identifying its audience. The musical sequences aren’t particularly interesting visually and will drag on for adults, yet it’s hard to imagine children sitting through Leo and Squirtle’s extended riffs on divorced parents or the courtship behaviors of reptiles and not getting a little bored. But with the holidays rolling around and families gathering, this will undoubtedly work as something to put on in the background for everyone.LeoRated PG. Running time: 1 hour 42 minutes. Watch on Netflix. More

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      What Hollywood Gets Right and Wrong About B’nai Mitzvah

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      The Jewish ceremony can be the setting for a sharp look at growing up. But it has too often been used for glosses that ignore the rite’s deeper meaning.In the Jewish faith you become an adult at the most awkward possible moment: when you turn 13. Sure, in the eyes of God and your Hebrew school, you are mature enough to read from the Torah and embrace the responsibilities of grown-up life. But in reality you’re probably a scared kid for whom true maturity is far off, despite all those uncomfortable hormones.That was the case when I was bat mitzvahed in 2013 — mortifyingly (but also with a hint of pride) getting my first period shortly before the event — and that’s the case in the new Netflix film “You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah,” based on the 2005 young adult novel by Fiona Rosenbloom.The movie, directed by Sammi Cohen, is the story of Stacy Friedman, played by Sunny Sandler. (Sunny is the daughter of Adam Sandler, who plays her dad in the film. Her real life-sister, Sadie, has been cast as her movie sibling, Ronnie. Their mother, Jackie Sandler, also in the cast, portrays a different girl’s mom — the role of Stacy’s mom went to Idina Menzel, who played Adam’s wife in “Uncut Gems.” Got all that?)Stacy has long dreamed of a blowout bat mitzvah alongside her best friend, Lydia Rodriguez Katz (Samantha Lorraine), but the messy realities of middle school meddle with their party plans. There are ill-advised crushes, moments of embarrassing flirtation and the kind of humiliating cruelty that only a 13-year-old with a grudge can muster. Eventually, Stacy takes the bimah at her bat mitzvah to read her Torah portion, and she learns the kinds of life lessons that come when you’ve emerged from the navel-gazing cocoon of youth.Sunny Sandler in “You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah.” The film is based on the novel by Fiona Rosenbloom.Netflix“You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah” proves, as other movies and shows have before it, that when a bar or bat mitzvah is depicted onscreen, it can often be a savvy vessel for exploring the funny, strange or even traumatic transition from childhood to teenagedom.“Figuring out, who am I, who I want to be — such a Jewish experience,” Cohen, who uses they/them pronouns, told me in an interview, adding that it’s “also just a human experience.”“We don’t all have a bat mitzvah,” she continued, “but we all feel awkward when we have to step out in front of our friends and family and try not to make a mistake.”At the same time, Hollywood can get too caught up in the lavish spectacle of these affairs, with depictions that sap them of their cultural or emotional significance in favor of gags about the superficiality of the post-service party. The spoiled bar or bat mitzvah boy or girl is a trope that comes up repeatedly. In a 2000 “Sex and the City” episode, Samantha (Kim Cattrall) faces off against a rich brat (Kat Dennings) who is hiring a publicist for her bat mitzvah party. “I want it all, I want it now, and I want you to get it for me,” the girl says.During a 2012 episode of “30 Rock,” Tracy (Tracy Morgan) and Jenna (Jane Krakowski) humiliate themselves at a bar mitzvah playing Transformer robots for the demanding son of their accountant. The films “Starsky & Hutch” (2004) and “Safe Men” (1998) found gags in criminals attending bat and bar mitzvahs.From left, Jami Gertz, Jeremy Piven and Daryl Sabara in “Keeping Up With the Steins” (2006). Financial anxiety is a common theme of bar or bat mitzvah movies.Eric McCandless/Miramax FilmsThe b’nai mitzvah party gone wild — celebrating a bat or bar mitzvah — is another staple of the genre. “Keeping Up With the Steins” (2006), directed by Scott Marshall, starts from a place of absurdity with an outlandish “Titanic” movie-themed soirée attended by the Fiedler family. The dad, an “Entourage”-era Jeremy Piven essentially playing a flavor of Ari Gold, does all he can to match the grandiosity of that event for his son. In the process he reconnects with his own father (Garry Marshall), a reunion facilitated by his child (Daryl Sabara). It’s a thin narrative that uses the hook of the over-the-top bar mitzvah for a trite family tale.Financial anxiety is a feature of similar narratives, and it is possible to find nuance in the strange mix of faith and capitalism that b’nai mitzvah spur in Jewish American culture — mostly when the writers, directors and performers lean into what a confusing time it is for the teenagers for whom these ceremonies are ostensibly intended.Sami Rappoport as Becca, a popular girl entering her bat mitzvah reception on “Pen15.” The episode focuses on a gentile’s experience of the event. HuluThe Hulu series “Pen15” is a masterpiece of discomfort — augmented by the fact that its creators and stars, Anna Konkle and Maya Erskine, are 30-something actors playing 13-year-olds in middle school. Their characters are not Jewish, but the gawky unease they cultivate is on full display during the episode chronicling the bat mitzvah of a popular girl named Becca (Sami Rappoport), a moment that coincides with their class learning about the Holocaust. The lesson about genocide makes Anna (Konkle) contemplate the very existence of God. The occasion brings on a different kind of unease for Maya (Erskine), who is desperate to impress Becca with a fancy gift despite the fact that it’s a stretch for her parents. “Pen15,” which takes place in the early 2000s, nails the cringe-worthy elements of bat mitzvah-going, whether it’s Becca entering her party belting a song from “Damn Yankees” or the mechanical slow dancing. But at the same time it explores how fraught the tradition can be when it comes to social class.Still, the episode focuses on an outsider’s experience of a bat mitzvah, not an actual Jew’s. So does Cooper Raiff’s 2022 directorial effort, “Cha Cha Real Smooth,” in which he also stars. It’s a bar mitzvah movie with thin acknowledgment of Jewish tradition. Raiff’s aimless college grad Andrew — who is not Jewish — gets a job as a party starter for b’nai mitzvah receptions. It’s a good backdrop for Andrew’s own insecurities; he knows just as little about life as the much younger people around him. But it’s also just that: a backdrop.Cooper Raiff, director and star of “Cha Cha Real Smooth,” another view of the event from an outsider’s perspective. Apple TV+To find a movie that incorporates a bar mitzvah in the fabric of its Jewishness, look to the Coen brothers’ “A Serious Man” (2009), a chronicle of Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg), a professor in 1967 Minnesota. Larry’s son Danny (Aaron Wolff) gets extremely stoned before his bar mitzvah. It’s the kind of stupid thing a little twerp would do, but the disorienting way the Coens film this sequence — with fuzzy visuals and oblique angles — feels like an introduction to a faith of questioning that can itself be disorienting, especially as Danny meets with the aged Rabbi Marshak (Alan Mandell), who starts reciting Jefferson Airplane’s “Somebody to Love” as a prayer.For an even bleaker depiction, there’s Todd Solondz’s “Life During Wartime” (2010), where the bar mitzvah of Timmy (Dylan Riley Snyder) coincides with horrific realizations about his father. Timmy’s perception of becoming a man, as he describes in a speech he’s writing for the occasion, is standing up for yourself even if it means getting “just plain tortured.” Solondz’s view is clear: Growing up is pain. There’s less of an engagement with the nature of Judaism here than there is in “A Serious Man,” but Solondz scores sequences with Avinu Malkeinu, a Jewish prayer of repentance usually uttered on the High Holy Days, which serves as a reminder of the human failure on which the director fixates.Aaron Wolff, center, as a bar mitzvah boy who gets stoned before going on the bimah in “A Serious Man.”Wilson Webb/Focus FeaturesIt’s hard to get darker than what Solondz delivers, but even some of the cheeriest b’nai mitzvah stories can have a touch of the grim. In “You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah,” Stacy lashes out at Lydia over a boy, spreading gossip about her and making an embarrassing video that ends up being played on Lydia’s big night. Her petulant acts may seem minor but they have real stakes, as anyone who has ever been betrayed by a friend knows. “Real kids are complicated and messy,” Cohen told me.And it’s true. I have warmly nostalgic memories of my own bat mitzvah that are mixed up with more complicated feelings. I think about a connection to faith that I let lapse and relatives who are no longer alive. I think about the friends with whom I have lost touch. I remember the world in front of me and it being exciting but also so scary. That’s the thematic potential in a b’nai mitzvah, and it’s nice to see that occasionally filmmakers get it right. More

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      ‘You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah’ Review: She’s Growing Up

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      Sandler family members (plus Idina Menzel) lean on each other in this Netflix comedy about growing up.The comedy “You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah” follows the debut of Stacy Friedman (Sunny Sandler), a preteen who is obsessed with the parties that accompany her Hebrew school cohort’s coming-of-age ceremonies.This joyride to adulthood is a real-life family affair: Sunny stars, and her father, Adam Sandler, amiably rides in the back seat as Stacy’s bewildered dad, Danny. But despite the support Stacy gets from her family (including Idina Menzel as Stacy’s mother, Bree, and Sadie Sandler as her sister, Ronnie), the friendship between Stacy and her best friend, Lydia (Samantha Lorraine), is the film’s emotional core.Stacy and Lydia have planned their parties and their lives around each other, but their friendship is tested by the most challenging trials of middle school: cute boys, cool girls and menstruation. When Stacy walks in on Lydia kissing their mutual crush, she can’t bring herself to consider her friend’s happiness with the mitzvah season’s rabbi-encouraged maturity. Instead, Stacy disinvites Lydia from her bat mitzvah, and she sets out to redefine what her first steps into womanhood should look like now that she intends to take those steps solo.The young cast proves deft with the film’s clever script, by Alison Peck (based on the 2005 novel by Fiona Rosenbloom), and the director Sammi Cohen indulges the virgin-mojito passions of preteens while avoiding nostalgia, thankfully. In one of the film’s best jokes, a partygoer requests a dusty mothball on the dance floor: Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.” For a split second, the movie’s easygoing, contemporary appeal hangs in the balance. And then with delightful rudeness, the film’s middle-aged, disco-ball-helmeted disc jockey, DJ Schmuley (Ido Mosseri), rejects the song, spitting out, “Let Schmuley handle the vibe around here!” A Selena Gomez song fills out the score, and this goofy charmer of a movie bounces on.You Are So Not Invited to My Bat MitzvahRated PG-13 for language and middle-school bathroom humor. Running time: 1 hour 41 minutes. Watch on Netflix. More

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      Adam Sandler Grows Up (Mostly)

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      At 56, the formerly juvenile funnyman has matured into a subtler, more nuanced comedy performer. It’s why the “Murder Mystery” films work so well.“I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m so sad,” wails Howard Ratner, voice choked up, tears streaming down his cheeks, a wad of tissue stuffed inside his bloody nose. “I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to do. Everything I do is not going right.”Howard, played with frazzled, manic intensity by Adam Sandler, is at the end of his rope. At this point in the gambling drama “Uncut Gems,” the Diamond District jeweler is in leagues of debt, and his one final, desperate hope to raise cash — a gem auction — has just failed spectacularly. Roughed up by the guys he owes, he turns to his mistress, Julia (Julia Fox), for consolation.“Unzip my skirt,” she tells him consolingly. Turning around, she reveals that she’s had his name tattooed in cursive on her backside. “It says ‘Howie’!” she exclaims.“I don’t deserve it!” Howard moans. After a pause, the Jewish New Yorker thinks to add, “You can’t even get buried with me now!”Recent Sandler films, including “Murder Mystery” and its new sequel, “Murder Mystery 2,” have this same familiar intensity. They may have less serious ambitions, but they have also been greatly bolstered by the depth and nuance he has lately seemed to harness.In many ways this is much the same Sandler that we have seen onscreen since the early 1990s, as the star of often juvenile feature comedies and as a cast member on “Saturday Night Live”: an oversize man-baby in the throes of an antic tantrum. In films like “Billy Madison” and “Happy Gilmore,” Sandler specialized in a kind of galvanic caricature of Gen X arrested development, oscillating wildly between boyish puppy-dog charm and explosive, bratty anger. His shtick was the interplay of two distinct types: bashful, vaguely pathetic one moment, utterly rabid the next.But there’s a depth of feeling evident in Sandler’s “Gems” performance that wasn’t on view in those earlier roles. From his tense shoulders to the way he grinds his teeth in moments of stress, Howard embodies a world-weariness that borders on exhaustion, looking harried and bedraggled even at his most well-rested and upbeat. All of the childish vigor Sandler is known for is still there, but filtered through several decades of indelible experience. He’s no longer a man-child. He’s an old man-child — and the effect of all that time on earth shows in every gesture and every pore.Sandler opposite Julia Fox in “Uncut Gems,” which marries the actor’s childish persona with decades of experience.A24This weariness isn’t exclusive to his work in “Gems” (available to rent on major platforms). While he’s regularly met the challenge of demanding roles under the direction of auteurs — giving complex, acclaimed performances in James L. Brooks’s “Spanglish” (2004), Judd Apatow’s “Funny People” (2009) and especially Paul Thomas Anderson’s “Punch-Drunk Love” (2004) — over the past several years he’s brought subtler and more thoughtful shading to broader, lighthearted comedies. He’s drawing on his art-house gifts even in farcical contexts, and the result is some of the most rewarding work of his career.In “Murder Mystery” and the new sequel “Murder Mystery 2,” streaming on Netflix, Sandler plays Nick Spitz, a New York City police detective longing for a promotion (more to the point, a raise). In the first film, Nick and his wife, Audrey (Jennifer Aniston), are celebrating their 15th anniversary with a long-overdue trip across Europe. On the plane, Nick spots Audrey chatting with Charles (Luke Evans), a dashing, titled billionaire, and can barely contain his envy.“I know I’m not a duke,” Nick tells Audrey sheepishly, when they have a moment alone.“He’s a viscount,” Audrey corrects him.“I don’t even know what that is,” Nick replies.This exchange is typical of the couple’s banter, which ranges in the films from tender to acrimonious to protective, sometimes in the span of a single line. Sandler plays the devoted but put-upon husband with a delicate balance of compassion and aloofness, and in moments like this, a wounded candor comes through that is oddly touching. While there’s humor in Nick’s jealousy of his rich and handsome competitor, Sandler laces it with a feeling of threatened ego and husbandly pridefulness. You get a real sense that Nick loves Audrey, and an equally clear impression of how 15 years of husband-and-wife routine have calcified their partnership.“Murder Mystery 2” picks up where the first film left off, with Nick and Audrey having parlayed their crime-solving success into a career as professional gumshoes. As with the original, this sequel works because it remains grounded in the mundane rhythms of a longtime marriage. And again, Sandler channels a hangdog torpor, almost a melancholic air, in a performance that bristles with comic realism. When he has to carry the ransom to a hostage exchange, he grouses about the weight of the briefcase (then gets defensive about the size of his hands); moments after a murder, he bickers with his wife about appropriate before-bed snack portions. This is a man with more down-to-earth concerns than the mystery he is ostensibly solving. Sandler, with surly charisma, makes those concerns palpable.Even the broadest of Sandler’s recent comedies benefit from this maturation. “Hubie Halloween” (2020, on Netflix), a goofy horror parody very much in the style of vintage Happy Madison productions, stars Sandler as Hubie Dubois, a sweet-natured simpleton reminiscent of the characters he played in “Little Nicky” and “The Waterboy.” (As in those films, Sandler speaks entirely in a squeaky, abrasive voice.) The difference is that “Hubie” leans into Sandler’s latent sweetness, counterbalancing the raunchy lowbrow humor with a heartfelt — perhaps even sentimental — touch. There’s always been a deep-seated earnestness in his work: Consider the Frank Capra-esque ending of his mawkish (and underappreciated) farce “Click” (2006). Lately, alongside the weariness, that warmth has come to the fore.Sandler, opposite Juancho Hernangómez, gives a sad, moving performance in “Hustle.”Scott Yamano/NetflixThe subtler, more mature Sandler of recent years is most fully showcased in “Hustle,” the sports comedy-drama by Jeremiah Zagar that was released to glowing reviews on Netflix last summer. Sandler stars as Stanley Sugerman, an international scout for the Philadelphia 76ers. Well-respected in his field, Stanley longs for a position on the bench: In his mid-50s and with a wife and teenage daughter he rarely sees, he badly wants to spend less time on the road and more time at home.Sandler plays Stanley as a man who is grateful for what he has but desperate for a little bit more. A hot basketball prospect in college with a shot at a championship, he squandered his one opportunity to make it as a player in the N.B.A.: After a night of partying, Stanley got into a drunk-driving accident that sent him to jail for six months and instantly derailed his career. Now he carries the guilt of that choice in his every movement.As Sandler capably plays him, he’s haunted — doomed to work in a kind of karmic penance, incapable of forgetting what might have been. It’s a sad and moving performance of remarkable emotional depth. It’s also the kind of performance that hints at where Sandler might go from here. As he continues to grow older, we might see him further hone this melancholy, perhaps eventually taking on roles like the one an aging Jerry Lewis played in Martin Scorsese’s great “The King of Comedy.”At one point in “Hustle,” asked about the dreams he still hopes to follow, Stanley offers a rebuke meant only semi-ironically. “Guys in their 50s don’t have dreams,” he insists. “They have nightmares and eczema.” Clearly Sandler — whether he personally agrees with the sentiment or not — has been channeling that feeling into his work. Onscreen now, at 56, he’s the guy who’s no longer dreaming: He’s only got nightmares and eczema, and whatever jokes he can muster to make about them. More