Click

The mid-2000s were a strange, transitionary time for the "multiplex comedy." We were moving away from the pure slapstick of the 90s and into a high-concept era where every premise felt like a rejected Twilight Zone pitch. In 2006, walking into a theater for a new Adam Sandler flick usually meant you were signing up for ninety minutes of silly voices and a few well-placed kicks to the groin. But Frank Coraci, who previously directed Sandler in The Wedding Singer, decided to hide a devastating existential crisis inside a movie about a magical remote control. I remember watching this while wearing a pair of itchy wool socks that I couldn't take off because I was trapped on a long-haul bus, and that physical agitation mirrored Michael Newman’s frantic desire to just get to the good part of his life perfectly.

The Ultimate Bait-and-Switch

On the surface, Click is classic Adam Sandler. He plays Michael Newman, a harried architect who is basically one missed promotion away from a nervous breakdown. He’s got the beautiful wife played by Kate Beckinsale (who does a lot of heavy lifting as the neglected spouse), two kids, and a boss from hell played by David Hasselhoff. When Michael wanders into a Bed Bath & Beyond looking for a universal remote, he encounters Morty, played by a delightfully weird Christopher Walken. Morty gives him a remote that doesn't just control the TV—it controls his universe.

The first act is exactly what the trailers promised: Michael muting his dog, fast-forwarding through a domestic argument, and changing the color of his own skin like he’s adjusting the hue on a Sony Trinitron. It’s light, it’s goofy, and David Hasselhoff’s character is a terrifying glimpse into the soulless corporate void. But then, the remote starts "learning" his preferences. It begins skipping life events automatically because Michael has programmed it to avoid the "boring" bits. This is where the movie shifts from a wacky comedy into a surprisingly heavy drama about the theft of time.

The "Sandler Cry" Phenomenon

What’s fascinating about looking back at Click is how it treats its dramatic pivot. It doesn't just dip its toe into sadness; it jumps into a deep, cold lake of regret. As Michael fast-forwards through years of his life, he misses his children growing up, the death of his father (Henry Winkler), and the dissolution of his marriage. Henry Winkler is the secret weapon here; his final scene with Michael—or rather, the scene Michael "rewinds" to watch after his father has already passed—is a genuine tear-jerker. It’s the moment that transformed this from a "Sandler movie" into a film that grown men use as a socially acceptable excuse to sob into their popcorn.

The makeup effects by Kazu Hiro (who later won Oscars for Darkest Hour) are genuinely impressive for 2006. Watching Sandler age from a vibrant, stressed-out dad to a morbidly obese, dying old man is haunting. It’s early CGI and heavy prosthetics working in tandem, and it holds up remarkably well because the emotional stakes feel earned. Sandler’s performance in the hospital rain scene is legitimately one of the best things he’s ever done, proving that when he isn't playing a man-child, he has the soul of a heavy-hitting dramatic actor.

Stuff You Didn't Notice

One of the reasons Click has maintained a cult-like status is the weird, layered production behind it. Christopher Walken was the absolute first choice for Morty, and his eccentric energy makes sense when you realize his character is essentially the Angel of Death. The writers, Steve Koren and Mark O’Keefe, clearly drew inspiration from the Twilight Zone episode "A Kind of a Stopwatch," but they grounded it in the specific tech-anxiety of the mid-2000s—that era where we were all suddenly obsessed with "universal remotes" and streamlining our lives.

The film also features a cameo from Sandler’s actual dog, Meatball, as the family pet. There’s a sense of "family" throughout the production that makes the later scenes of Michael’s isolation feel even more biting. It’s also worth noting that the "Way Beyond" section of the store was shot in a massive, actual warehouse to give it that liminal, otherworldly feel. Despite being a big-budget studio comedy, it feels like it was made by people who actually cared about the message: that life isn't about the destination, it’s about the "boring" parts you’re tempted to skip.

Click is a flawed masterpiece of the "high-concept" comedy genre. It still has its fair share of juvenile jokes that haven't aged perfectly, but its core message about the fragility of time is more relevant now than it was in 2006. In an age where we’re constantly scrolling and "skipping" through content, Michael Newman’s realization that the "mundane" is actually the "meaningful" hits like a freight train. It’s a movie that baits you with a fart joke and finishes you off with a lesson on mortality. Definitely worth a revisit, just keep the tissues nearby.