Nearly three decades after Adam Sandler first introduced his temper-fueled, hockey-stick-swinging underdog to the world, Happy Gilmore 2 has landed on Netflix with the kind of fanfare only nostalgia can fuel. The sequel, released on July 25, 2025, arrives not just with high expectations but with a loaded bag of emotional stakes, absurd humor, and enough celebrity cameos to rival a Super Bowl halftime show. Yet, despite its heartfelt moments and standout performances, the film teeters under the weight of its own legacy.
Happy Gilmore 2: A Swing Toward Sentimentality, But Does It Hit the Green?
There’s no denying that Happy Gilmore 2 wants to be more than a rehash of its predecessor. It strives for a tonal evolution, beginning with a surprisingly emotional blow: Happy’s wife, Virginia (Julie Bowen), dies after being struck by one of his errant golf shots. It’s a darkly ironic and emotionally complex start, shifting Happy’s journey from slapstick redemption to personal reckoning. Sandler leans into the melancholia, showing off the dramatic range honed in films like Uncut Gems, without losing the quirky essence that made Happy so beloved.
That emotional depth is well-crafted in the first act, especially through Happy’s relationship with his daughter Vienna, played by Sunny Sandler. Her dream to attend the Paris Opera Ballet School anchors the story in a fresh set of stakes. The need to fund her $75,000-a-year tuition sets Happy back on the greens, this time reluctantly, to play in a radically modern version of the game—Maxi Golf. The parallels to the original’s mission of saving his grandmother’s house are intentional but infused with new emotional nuance. It’s a clever echo rather than a lazy repeat.
But the film soon shifts into a more chaotic rhythm. The balance between heartfelt storytelling and raucous comedy is disrupted by a deluge of cameos that, while amusing, start to overshadow the core narrative. Bad Bunny’s role as Happy’s new caddy is genuinely funny and well-paced, and John Daly’s caricature of himself as Happy’s golf-bum roommate adds a self-aware flavor. Yet, appearances by Travis Kelce, Eminem, Margaret Qualley, and a dizzying lineup of influencers and athletes blur the line between story and spectacle.
There’s no shortage of laughs, but the bursts of humor often feel like sketches loosely stitched together rather than integral beats in a well-structured plot. For every joke that lands—like Hal’s (Ben Stiller) return as a rehab leader with his signature manic menace—there’s a gag that overstays its welcome or feels forced, such as the overly long running bit about the villain’s halitosis.
Old Rivals, New Rules, And an Identity Crisis
Shooter McGavin (Christopher McDonald) makes a grand return, and it’s a highlight worth the wait. His reunion with Happy carries both hilarity and a surprisingly poignant depth, as Shooter’s breakdown since his defeat adds new layers to a formerly one-note character. McDonald and Sandler’s chemistry reignites the screen, even if it’s frustratingly reserved for the third act. Their dynamic remains the true spark of the franchise.
Yet the real foil in Happy Gilmore 2 is Benny Safdie’s Frank Manatee, a grotesquely comic villain running Maxi Energy Drink and pushing the hyper-stylized Maxi Golf. This seven-hole, steroid-fueled sport—with its surgically enhanced athletes and ridiculous theatrics—is a satire of modern sports commercialization. But rather than enhancing the story, Maxi Golf often feels like a cartoonish detour. It’s ambitious but tonally inconsistent with the more grounded emotional arc of Happy’s family life.
The nostalgia here is double-edged. On one hand, director Kyle Newacheck pays respectful tribute to departed cast members like Carl Weathers (Chubbs), Frances Bay (Grandma Gilmore), and Richard Kiel (Mr. Larson) through tasteful flashbacks and heartfelt Easter eggs. On the other, entire scenes from the 1996 original are replayed with only minimal variation, as if the film doesn’t quite trust its audience to feel the magic without literal reminders.
Clocking in at nearly two hours—about 30 minutes longer than its predecessor—the sequel often feels bloated. Its extended runtime accentuates the uneven pacing, and by the final act, the emotional and comedic punches don’t hit with the same precision. The climax, a high-octane Maxi Golf showdown on a garish, game-like course, trades emotional payoff for sheer absurdity. It’s visually outrageous, but emotionally hollow.
Critics and fans alike are split. A 64% Rotten Tomatoes score suggests a lukewarm reception: some celebrate its loving callbacks and bold risks, while others call it a missed opportunity to evolve rather than echo.
Our Take: A Sentimental Return That Falters in Execution
Happy Gilmore 2 is a cinematic mulligan—full of heart, chaos, and old-school charm, but not quite the hole-in-one fans were hoping for. Sandler brings sincerity to a character now grappling with grief and fatherhood, and several moments—including his interactions with Vienna and showdown with Shooter—remind us why we fell for Happy Gilmore in the first place. But the film’s cameo-laden chaos and cluttered tone reveal the challenges of balancing homage with innovation.
For longtime fans, it’s an imperfect but affectionate return to the fairway. For newcomers, it may feel like a confusing scramble of nostalgia and noise. In trying to be everything at once—funny, heartfelt, nostalgic, and new—Happy Gilmore 2 ends up being a reminder that sometimes, the magic of the original is hard to replicate.
Happy Gilmore 2 is now streaming on Netflix.
