To fetch a pail of (toilet) water

Adam Sandler tackles a dual role in the painfully puerile 'Jack and Jill'

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In the secret language shared by twins Jack and JillSadelstein, the phrase “polly wolly zoom golly golly” means “I want to choke onmy own vomit.” And that’s precisely what Adam Sandler proceeds to do for 91soul-crushing, stomach-churning, laugh-free minutes in “Jack and Jill,” yetanother movie that was made primarily because the star needed a vacation (forno apparent reason, most of the last third of the film is essentially acommercial for Royal Caribbean International cruises). Sandler gives his audiencea trip, too — a first-class ticket straight to Hollywood Hell.

Nobody can say Sandler hasn’t made a few stabs atrespectability in recent years. Like scores of comedians before him, he’s triedto establish himself as a legitimate actor in films like “Punch Drunk Love,”“Reign Over Me,” “Spanglish” and “Funny People.” Unfortunately, none of themearned him an Oscar nomination, or brought in offers to tackle Chekhov orEugene O’Neill on Broadway.

So Sandler, perhaps understandably, has gone back to hisusual modus operandi, cranking out vapid, hastily patched-together comedieswith his friends (such as the astonishingly inept director Dennis Dugan,Sandler protg Nick Swardson and former “Saturday Night Live” co-stars DavidSpade, Norm MacDonald and Tim Meadows). He’s made a decent movie or two alongthe way, but the majority of his output has ranged from merely mediocre todownright unwatchable.

Thanks to his mind-boggling box office success over theyears, Sandler can also afford to hire a few major-league names to spruce uphis vanity vehicles: Nicole Kidman and Jennifer Aniston reported for duty in“Just Go With It” earlier this year, and Katie Holmes, Al Pacino, and JohnnyDepp were snookered into appearing in “Jack.” Depp, who turns up wearing aJustin Bieber T-shirt, is only around for a couple of minutes; Holmes, whoseuncomfortable comforting looks and forced laughs make it seem as if she wasacting at gunpoint, and Pacino don’t get off so easily. This may represent theonly time in history in which Pacino could be out-acted by Subway spokesmanJared Fogle or Shaquille O’Neill, both of whom also drop by for quick paychecks.

The supposed hilarity in “Jack” comes from the sight ofSandler in a dual role. While he’s merely bland as Jack, a supposed advertisingwhiz tasked with luring Pacino (playing himself) into making a Dunkin Donutscommercial, Sandler manages to be utterly insufferable as Jill, a braying,clingy, aggressively obnoxious basket case from the Bronx. The sexuallyfrustrated Jill’s constant pleas for Jack to cuddle with her in bed or on thecouch — “Twin time!” — give a disturbing, incestuous edge to the painfullyunfunny shenanigans that pass for a plot.

“We shared Mom’s womb — we were wombmates!” Jill remindsJack in one of the script’s wittiest turns of phrase. Although she was onlysupposed to be around for Thanksgiving, Jill decides to stick aroundindefinitely, driving Jack crazy and driving viewers toward those oh-so-alluringexits.

Jill also has a pet parrot that accompanies her nearlyeverywhere so it can frequently squawk its killer one-liner: “Where were you?” Yep, that’s the joke. Butdon’t worry, it doesn’t get any funnier after the seventh or eighth repetition.

After poking fun at Jill’s gracelessness and grating habitsfor most of an hour, the movie suddenly takes pity on the character and asks usto feel sorry for the small-minded, amply proportioned loudmouth who can’t geta date: Jill’s heartbreaks are underscored with the sort of marshmallowywhining violins you’d expect to hear in a TV movie about a faithful collie inthe last stage of leukemia. Why settle for being merely lame when you can be lachrymose aswell?

The film’s continual choppiness — many scenes end withoutproducing a punchline or making a point — indicates that Dugan and his editorsworked with blindfolds over their eyes (and, no doubt, industrial-strengthearplugs), cutting whenever the spirit moved them and blissfully ignoring theconcepts of coherence and continuity.

As Jack’s remarkably peaceful wife, Erin, who must be acloset Valium zombie, Holmes is primarily called upon to show a stalwart smileand pretend to be vaguely concerned about Jill’s love life. She’s about theonly cast member who escapes with a shred of dignity.

Pacino, unfortunately, gets saddled with his mostembarrassing role since playing a 18th-century fur trapper coercedinto battling the British in the infamous 1985 disaster “Revolution.” Bellowingnearly every line and overplaying every moment, he’s called upon to lust afterJill — they came from the same neighborhood, which is apparently all it takesto get Al Pacino hot and bothered over you — and, finally, to rap about the sugaryglories of Dunkin’ Donuts new Dunkaccino. If Sandler’s fatuous filmsdon’t give you much to laugh about these days, at least they’re stuffed withmore ads than the Sunday paper. No coupons, though: If you pay to see “Jack andJill,” you’re the one who ends up getting clipped.

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