Page 179

Click

Movie Click Director Frank Coraci Producer Adam Sandler Cast Adam Sandler, Kate Beckinsale, Christopher Walken

"Click" takes an old theme, that life is to be cherished in each moment, even the seemingly insignificant ones and gives it a postmodern spin by dropping in funnyman Adam Sandler and a mischievous Universal Remote with its own Life Menu. The movie is gag-filled, as you would expect of a Sandler movie, but the filmmakers, director Frank Coraci and writers Steve Koren and Mark O'Keefe realize they have hit upon an idea that is both clever and good, so they edge their comedy into some darker areas of human behavior. While the film pulls back from this dark side for a sunny ending, this nevertheless is light years removed from "Happy Gilmore" or "The Waterboy." So its anticipated box office success will reflect Sandler's winning attempt to broaden his appeal. Sandler's Michael Newman is established as a harried, workaholic architect determined to win the approval of his boss (David Hasselhoff) so he will be named a partner in the firm. Which leaves his lovely wife, Donna (Kate Beckinsale), and picture-perfect kids, Ben (Joseph Castanon) and Samantha (Tatum McCann), in the lurch. Dad hasn't any time to take a holiday or even finish that treehouse in the backyard. Annoyed one evening when he can't figure out which of his remotes turns on the TV, Michael drives to a store to purchase a universal remote to operate all his electronic equipment. At Bed, Bath & Beyond, he slips through a door marked Beyond, which takes him to a shadowy warehouse/lab where a slightly demented guy named Morty, Christopher Walken, who else? hands him a gadget that he promises will change Michael's life. It does. Michael discovers that this remote can not only muffle the dog's bark, but let him fast-forward through arguments with Donna and skip the drudgery of work. The drawback is that the remote begins to program Michael: It anticipates, based on his previous preferences, the events he would like to experience and those he would choose to miss. Only now he is skipping over major sections of his life, fast-forwarding to the day he finally becomes a partner only to return home to a family irredeemably estranged from dad. "Click" has a grand time aging people, portraying the results of a junk-food addiction over a long haul and seeing relationships crumble and resume at a click of a button. Clearly, this gag leads to serious themes explored in works as divergent as Harry Chapin's song "Cat's in the Cradle," Thorton Wilder's play "Our Town" and Charles Dickens' novella "A Christmas Carol," where a protagonist learns he must treasure everyday life just as it is and realizes the consequences of mistreating those who are close. The logic of this Universal Remote is not completely thought through. If Michael can fast-forward in time, why can't he hit reverse and alter his destiny? More puzzling is that the devise seems to create two different Michaels. The one who hits the clicker is still sensitive to his desperate need for his family and their love. But the "bad" Michael, the one he catches up with in these time-travel leaps, is completely cut off, if not hostile, to family members. Fortunately, Sandler sells the good Michael as a likable guy even when crazed with work and seems truly startled at this deviant version of himself. Michael's children, played at different stages by three sets of actors, grow up believably. However, Beckinsale's Donna isn't given much to work with other than an unlikely shift in her romantic affections. Characters on the periphery - Hasselhoff, Henry Winkler and Judy Kavner as Michael's parents, Sean Astin as a swim coach and Jennifer Coolidge as Donna's husband-cheating girlfriend, are all caricatures. The visual effects by Jim Rygiel and Pete Travers and special effects supervised by John Hartigan are part of the fun. The various design elements pull you into the world of the Universal Remote as well as a credible future complete with 2016 cars and Perry Andelin Blake's sleek production design, all expertly woven together by Dean Semler's crisp cinematography.