Sandy Wexler

Wexler isn't a particularly good movie, but it's mesmerizing all the same, projecting a strange mixture of heartfelt homage, reactionary nostalgia, lowbrow integrity, and contractually obligated indifference.

There's no way to recommend it, yet I wouldn't ask for my two hours back (though I do wish that they could have been sped up somewhat).

Though Sandy Wexler comes from a place of genuine affection, it feels oddly cruel. As depicted, Sandy isn't just oblivious, but borderline incompetent.

This is all still Sandler shtick, replete with endless running gags, but it's also surprisingly endearing and often quite funny.

Adam Sandler's third Netflix comedy arrives as something of a mission statement, finding a loose moral justification for all of his bad movies.

As with almost every Sandler vehicle, this is an adoring ode to a lifelong man-baby who mistakes his half-assed excretions for art.

The celebrity cameos range from the expected to the embarrassing to the downright baffling...

Sandy Wexler is a bad movie, yes, but it's not at the level of bad that made me actively hate it like I did with Sandler's last two films. It's a step up for Sandler, but that's only because he's fallen so low.

Adam Sandler's almost impressively steady spiral into irrelevance continues with Sandy Wexler...

Sometimes-raunchy showbiz farce has cursing, comic action.