film review: jack and jill

In a tradition of non-contextual cross-dressing films that has seen actors from Charlie Chaplain to John Travolta frock up, Jack and Jill showcases Adam Sandler’s lipsticked incarnation. But does the Happy Gilmore actor have anything to add? Is his wig any more than a gimmick? Not really.

Sandler plays a pair of fraternal twins – Jack and Jill, as you may have guessed. Jack is an understated guy working in advertising. He has a wife, two children and owns a large family home. His sister Jill, is loud and unworldly, a thanksgiving guest destined to overstay her welcome. The film follows the pair through the predictable twists and turns of a Hollywood rom-com. Lonely Jill extends her stay again and again, while Jack spurns her every effort at family bonding. Eventually, Jack sees a way to rid himself of his boisterous sibling – find her a man.

Jack and Jill has all the bad taste humour of the Adam Sandler movies of your childhood, without the heart. While Jill is supposed to be a sympathetic character, she’s also the butt of most of the film’s jokes. There are moments where you might feel for her, but in general she is not well-rounded enough to relate to. Most of the humour of Jack and Jill is toilet humour or slapstick, and most of this is at the expense of someone. Physically Adam Sandler in drag is weirdly convincing, but he milks the man-dressed-as-woman gag dry – when honestly there wasn’t much milk to start with. The biggest charm of Sandler’s older films was the character of the lovable simpleton. In a sense Jill is an incarnation of this, but it never feels like Jill or Jack actually have a sense of humour, which would have made them both more likable. Nevertheless, if you enjoyed Adam Sandler back in his Big Daddy Days, maybe you’ll like this.

The biggest surprise of the film is Al Pacino as one of Jill’s potential love interests. Playing a slightly crazier version of himself, Pacino valiantly pursues an unimpressed Jill, as Jack pursues Pacino for a role in a Dunkin’ Donuts ad. Pacino walks through the role with good humour, but doesn’t salvage much. In a refreshing turn Jack and Jill shows some degree of self-awareness, poking fun at Sandler’s oftentime offsider Rob Schneider (say that ten times quickly). Possibly the greatest moment of the film comes at the end, when we finally experience the Dunkin’ Donuts ad. The footage rolls – Pacino starts to sing and dance in a tacky sell-out display. Afterwards, the film cuts to Al and Jack watching the ad in an office. You could imagine Al Pacino having a similar response to Jack and Jill as the one his character has now – “Burn this. This must never be seen by anyone.” Perhaps the makers of Jack and Jill knew what they were doing.