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50 First Dates

Review By: Joe Lalia
JoeLalia@TheCinemaSource.com

When one thinks of on-screen chemistry, certain figures spring to mind that seem to epitomize all our individualized romantic ideals; occasionally a particular scene strikes us as so powerfully indelible that it ingrains itself into our subconscious, becoming a paragon of what we all secretly aspire to—and, essentially spoiling us for anything we might practically encounter amidst the monotony of our own everyday lives. For myself, this scene has always been of Han and Leia, in the carbonite-freezing chamber in the floating Cloud City of Bespin. It is a simple five words they exchange, yet the significance is ineffable. Hers: “I love you.” His: “I know.” Han was then turned into a statue. While 50 First Dates never quite reaches the exquisite pain of denied love found in such romantic odysseys as The Empire Strikes Back, it does make a somewhat better than halfway believable effort to do so (which, in and of itself, is a substantial accomplishment in the often clichéd, cookie-cutter market of the romantic comedy), but it certainly isn’t for lack of an appropriate pairing, even if it is one we’re familiar with from The Wedding Singer.

Adam Sandler plays Henry Roth, a marine veterinarian whose relationships with his aquatic patients show far more depth and intimacy than any of his various week-long flings with vacationing floozies. But then Henry meets Lucy Whitmore (Drew Barrymore) at a diner one morning, as she is perfecting her talents in the uncelebrated art of erecting waffle architecture, and finds some indefinable quality in her that forces him to consider renouncing his player ways in favor of pursuing the local wahine.

The plot unfolds into a sort of Groundhog Day meets Memento cinematic experience, as Henry finds himself enchanted with this girl who awakes every morning after failing to form any new memories, unable to remember anything that has happened prior to the day of the accident which damaged her brain, reliving that very day itself over and over, and Henry, as we are repeatedly told, is forced to make her fall in love with him all over again, everyday, again and again.

Fortunately, the film’s conceit gives it ample material to work with so that the story rarely stalls, though it does go through the usual progression of initial attraction, playful rejection, fevered romance, heart-wrenching breakup, and inevitable reunion. Somewhat surprisingly, it is only when the film attempts to force itself to meet the crude joke requirements of any Sandler film that it seems to stagger for a moment. On the other hand, some of the film’s smaller victories occur in the forgettable moments of obscure humor that are equally mandatory for a Sandler film, such as when the gargantuan chef affectionately referred to as “Tattoo-Face” offers to sprinkle peanut-butter cups into Henry’s eggs. There’s even the token acoustic ballad. ...