In both films, Happy Gilmore plays golf only for others—not for himself.
Every recreational golfer of my generation shares at least two things in common: We grew up revering Tiger Woods, and we know Happy Gilmore, the 1996 Adam Sandler golf comedy, like the back of our hands. Which millennial, while lining up a putt on the green, hasn’t told himself at some point to just „tap it in—give it a little tappy, a tap-tap-taparoo“? Who among us, before hitting a challenging tee shot, hasn’t at some point first closed his eyes and attempted to escape to his very own „happy place“? And above all, which of us hasn’t spent hours upon hours at the local driving range trying to master the craft that is protagonist Happy Gilmore’s signature running golf swing?
For all of us picking up the game once described by sports journalist John Feinstein as „a good walk spoiled“, Sandler’s character was a never-ending font of laughs and inspiration. Like so many others of my generation, then, I was very excited to watch Happy Gilmore 2, just released on Netflix on July 25. The sequel, 29 years in the making, didn’t have a script as instantly quotable as the original, nor was it as memorable. (Which film sequel, besides The Godfather Part II or The Empire Strikes Back, ever has been?) But Happy Gilmore 2 still surpassed expectations: It was at times a bit silly, but it was still rollicking fun, replete with nostalgic flashbacks and a bevy of pro golfer cameos.
But it’s also more than that. It would be a mistake to dismiss the two movies as purely frivolous fare—good just for a few laughs.
