No one is more surprised than me that I'm suggesting you watch the new Adam Sandler movie with your family over this Thanksgiving holiday.
I grew up imitating Sandler's silly voices, hiding his comedy cassettes from my parents, and rewatching Happy Gilmore and Billy Madison over and over until I had them committed to memory. That said, my hopes for Leo were rock-bottom.
The trailers I'd seen, which center on a pair of crotchety class pets griping about the youth, didn't inspire confidence. Admittedly, Sandler has enjoyed critical successes recently with films like the anxiety-driven thriller Uncut Gems, the sports drama Hustle, and the coming-of-age comedy You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah. But I haven't been excited to see a Sandler movie in years. Blame the stint of dreadful comedies, ranging from the soph-moronic I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry to the dismal Pixels and The Ridiculous 6, a Western that has a 0% on Rotten Tomatoes.
While the promos for Leo feel like they're playing to the same lowest common denominator as the comedian's most tedious works, there's sweetness and surprises in store that won over this Sandler cynic.
Leo's secret weapon is Robert Smigel.
Robert Smigel, the visionary comic writer behind Saturday Night Live's delightfully bonkers cartoon sketches Saturday TV Funhouse, co-wrote the script for Leo alongside Sandler and Sandy Wexler scribe Paul Sado. Smigel reunited with TV Funhouse animators Robert Marianetti and David Wachtenheim to share directing duties. Smigel's irreverent edge (he's responsible for Triumph the Insult Comic Dog, after all) plays well with Sandler's zany, juvenile schtick, making for a movie that's both salty and sweet.
Sandler lends his voice to the titular lizard, who at 74 years old worries he's wasted his life in the terrarium of a fifth-grade classroom. So, when a cranky substitute (Cecily Strong) proposes the students learn responsibility by caring for a classroom pet over the weekend, Leo begins to plot his escape.
He dreams of fleeing this domesticated life and entering the wild, where algae blooms and bugs are caught — not dropped in his tank — and where he can get a break from his roommate, a grousing turtle voiced by stand-up Bill Burr. But once Leo gets into these kids' houses, and thereby their lives, he just can't scurry away. He feels compelled to share the wisdom he's learned from decades of watching kids grow up. But as his popularity grows among the students, a secret threatens to shatter their bond.
Surprise! Leo is a musical.
Strangely, Leo joins the ranks of Wonka and Mean Girls, movies that hide their musical numbers in their promotional materials. Admittedly, the first song in Leo is a bit rough, sung by the ensemble of fifth-graders who are all excited and anxious about the new school year. Their youthful voices are enthusiastic but a bit grating as they sing about their hopes, often off-key. But this is actually fitting, as it gives the adult audience a sense of Leo's exasperation with another year of this.
While the new class clamors in, Leo and Squirtle the turtle roast the kids, who are blissfully unaware — both of anyone but themselves and that this pet pair can speak English. ("Another year, another batch of fifth-grade head cases.") They call out the archetypes parading before them: the mean girls, the class clown, the chatterbox who has "never heard the word 'enough!'" But as Leo goes home with each kid, he learns who they are beneath these labels, and he helps them recognize who they can be beyond them in class.
Some lessons are fairly straightforward, like urging the talker to learn to listen. Others make for hilarious musical numbers in which a rascally lizard tells one girl she and her keeping-up-with-the-Joneses family "are not that great." In another, he advises a child of divorce that crying "makes you look ugly and dumb." It's the kind of vintage advice that could make kids burst into tears or gentle parents blanch. But in the film, the kids find wisdom within Leo's frankness, sometimes rejecting his advice outright but valuing his loving intentions nevertheless.
Leo is delightfully chaotic.
While there are some vague jokes about sex and puberty, there's nothing here that is sure to spark an awkward conversation over the dinner table. Parents will get the winking references to bawdier humor, but kids will be chuckling over the animal antics; in addition to Leo and Squirtle, there's also a surly party pony, a pack of grumbling gators, and a harried bunny. However, everyone will enjoy the animated design of the kindergarteners, who are depicted as feral, balloon-headed beasts with bug eyes and endless energy that propels them around like Superballs.
In all this, Leo goes on an epic journey, from classroom to kids' rooms to the great unknown. He does battle with perplexed parents, a jealous teacher, an overprotective drone, and even his own fears. Spoiler: He learns lessons from the kids, too — and not just how to text.
In the end, Leo is a spirited, silly, and splendid animated romp, sure to have the whole family laughing — and maybe humming along.
How to watch: Leo is now streaming on Netflix.
