Clucked

A couple of weeks ago, Kathryn Jean Lopez transformed herself into a one-woman promotion machine for Adam Sandler's latest movie, Click. In her world of high-toned criticism, Click was an "all-American movie"; it was "pro-fatherhood and family."

(Similarly, she saw The Lake House and pigeon-holed it as, I kid you not, "pro-abstinence.")

I find unsurprising, to say the least, that K.Lo. would critique a movie as she would judge a sermon. The final assessments on which she constructs her sophomorically conceived and appallingly written "reviews" rarely consider artistic merit, production qualities, the intelligence of the screenplay, creativity and originality, intellectual rigor, or the professionalism of the acting. Her capsule judgments are always boiled down to an estimation of the message: catechismally correct (good) or immoral (bad).

Click is the type of movie I would never see on my own. Two words: Adam Sandler. Okay, four words: Adam Sandler fart jokes. But my 12-year-old nephew is in town, and he was just dying to go see it. Being the #1 super-cool uncle, I obliged.

And I am here to report that, for the first time ever, K.Lo., my nephew, and I agree on something. Click is indeed the perfect movie for someone with the intellectual capacities and moral development of a 12-year-old.