Shooter McGavin Would Eat This Movie… Because It’s a Piece of Shit
30 years later, they finally made a sequel to one of the most beloved, endlessly quotable comedies of all time—and somehow delivered one of the most baffling cinematic disasters in recent memory. Happy Gilmore 2 isn’t just bad; it’s Netflixified into oblivion, stripped of charm, humor, and any semblance of what made the original a classic.
Let’s be clear: the original Happy Gilmore is arguably Adam Sandler’s best film. It was lightning in a bottle—short, sweet, slapstick gold, filled with heart and perfect comedic timing. But this sequel? It’s the cinematic equivalent of watching your childhood pet get run over… in slow motion… while being narrated by a TikTok influencer.
Within minutes, the movie commits narrative suicide: Julie Bowen’s character is killed offscreen, only to reappear constantly in Happy’s “happy place” like some bizarre ghost therapist. And what follows is a plot so disjointed and idiotic it sounds like it was brainstormed in a psych ward. Shooter McGavin—yes, the icon himself—is now in a mental institution and somehow becomes… a good guy? Blasphemy. Christopher McDonald does what he can, but the script turns one of comedy’s great villains into a neutered sidekick.
Then there’s Benny Safdie, dialed up to 11 as the villain, delivering a performance so cartoonishly terrible it makes you nostalgic for Little Nicky. The whole thing is wrapped in a nonsensical plot involving Happy being a broke, alcoholic widower with five kids, one of whom is a ballet prodigy. Why? No one knows. No one cares.
The golf scenes are over-the-top CGI slop. The cameos—from PGA stars like Rory McIlroy and Brooks Koepka to every random celebrity Adam Sandler could text—are abundant and pointless. It’s just a content smoothie meant for the Instagram age: recognizable faces, loud moments, and zero substance.
Worst of all, the jokes fall flat. Every single gag is a watered-down retread of a superior moment from the first film. There’s no originality, no sharp writing, and definitely no heart. Even Ben Stiller’s return as the sadistic nursing home orderly is ruined by oversaturation—he was hilarious in small doses in Happy Gilmore, but here he’s shoved into scenes like a sketch character who overstayed his welcome.
There is one saving grace: Bad Bunny, of all people, shows up as Happy’s new caddy. He’s surprisingly likable, and the fake-out about Will Zalatoris being the original caddy is a fun wink. But a two-second chuckle doesn’t excuse 95 minutes of cringe.
This movie is everything wrong with Hollywood reboots and Netflix Original bloat. It’s soulless, unnecessary, and insulting to fans who’ve waited decades for a proper follow-up. You give real writers six months and they could’ve come up with something infinitely better—a simple rematch between Happy and Shooter would’ve done the trick. Instead, we got an incoherent mess drowning in celebrity cameos and tone-deaf drama.
This isn’t just a missed opportunity. It’s a total embarrassment. And yes, Shooter McGavin would eat this movie for breakfast… because it’s a piece of shit.
Happy Gilmore 2 = 31/100
