Saying Little Nicky is the worst Adam Sandler movie yet would be like comparing piles of shit and picking one as the stinkiest. While I’m sure Sandler’s fans love to do this, I’ve got better things to do, like get alcohol poisoning or jab a rusty nail into my foot…. On earth, Sandler is befriended by a talking dog and discovers the heavenly pleasures of love with the truly execrable Patricia Arquette. That’s right: this movie features a talking dog who pisses on shit, exposes his balls and has to say huge blocks of exposition. That alone qualifies Little Nicky as an ass-reamer of a flick, but Sandler’s just getting his rusty rod lubed. [Director] Brill brings the skills he learned making the fat-kid summer camp movie “Heavyweights” (the fat kids win!) and writing the David Arquette pussy-fart “Ready to Rumble.” They lay it out so fucking lazily I could almost hear the trio say “good enough” on a dozen occasions.
The rest of the jokes will appeal to a certain audience, and that audience is mostly in prison for buttfucking animals.
Steve Brill has the directorial flash and sense of style of a young Janet Reno. His pacing is flatter than my grandpa’s cardiogram, with no hints to Sandler’s mentally-challenged demographic as to when to laugh or care. There are many cameos in this movie, but they aren’t fun. It’s like Little Nicky is the welfare line for Saturday Night Live stars we hoped we’d never have to see again. After all, if we did want to see them, they’d be in their own shitty movies. The characters are all limper than a cold dick . Sandler goes through the movie lisping out of half his mouth, and wearing huge down coats. This is part of the “humor” and maybe it was funny to him and Herlihy when they were stoned and writing it. Little Nicky is a royal ass-fucking with a dirty fence post from Sandler and New Line Cinema, both of whom don’t give a flying fuck about you or me.