In his latest comedy, Adam Sandler plays an Israeli counterterrorist who, by way of a faked death, moves overseas to follow his dream of becoming a great New York hairstylist. This is one of those movie ideas that leaves you wondering what other ideas, exactly, were rejected in favor of this one, on the grounds of being too lame.
Essentially, "You Don't Mess With the Zohan" is about 100 minutes of ethnic stereotypes, bathroom jokes and adolescent sexual humor, with a couple of minutes of unity and good feeling tacked on at the end so we get that it's all a joke. Zohan, who has uncanny talents as an operative (he can catch bullets in his hands, in silly slow-motion), reads out-of-date hairstyle guides while loading up his guns at home, dreaming of the life he wants. "I like hair," he says. "It's pleasant, it's peaceful. No one gets hurt."
Just a few crotch-gyrations later (Zohan likes to dance), he's stowing away on a flight to America, planning his introduction to hair guru Paul Mitchell. When that goes badly — Zohan's '80s hair is mercilessly mocked by the Mitchell stylists, who frankly don't look much better — he finds some new friends, and quickly gets established in a small shop run by an Arab woman (Emmanuelle Chriqui, who's so beautiful you wonder why she had to settle for this movie). Soon, a parade of older women is being trimmed and otherwise satisfied by the scissors-wielding, sex-happy Zohan, who's oblivious to the fact that his Palestinian nemesis, The Phantom (John Turturro), is winging his way stateside for a confrontation.
Written, more or less idiotically, by Sandler, Robert Smigel and the ubiquitous Judd Apatow (does the man ever sleep?), "Zohan" is aimed squarely at teenage boys and anyone who might find the idea of sexually active older women hilariously funny. Sandler, who attempts a throat-clearingly silly accent that won't be keeping Sacha Baron Cohen up nights, boogies through the movie in his usual dead-eyed way. Random cameo appearances by Mariah Carey, Henry Winkler, John McEnroe and an enormous vat of hummus occasionally enlighten things for a moment, but quickly fall flat. Memo to director Dennis Dugan: If you can't make an enormous vat of hummus funny, you've made one lousy movie.
Moira Macdonald: 206-464-2725 or mmacdonald@seattletimes.com
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