The Ridiculous 6 Review

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When his father is kidnapped by bandits, White Knife (Adam Sandler) must round up his half-brothers and steal enough money to pay the ransom. Carrot-throwing, shitting donkeys and Jon Lovitz ensue.


The Native American people have suffered any number of indignities over the years. But they haven't, until now, suffered Adam Sandler. The comedy titan's latest movie, released exclusively by Netflix in the first of a four-picture deal, blunders into a sensitive subject with all the gentle caution of a stampeding bison. Female Apache characters are called Smoking Fox, Never Wears Bra and, um, Beaver Breath. The pun "Poca-hot-tits" is deployed. There are wince-inducing jokes about peace pipes and wigwams, while Sandler, who spends the first stretch of the film dressed up as an "Injun" himself, is imbued with magical powers he's learned from the tribe. But other ethnicities won't feel left out — Rob Schneider plays a stupid Mexican whose best friend is a diarrhea-spraying donkey. We have the feeling Donald Trump has already added The Ridiculous 6 to his Netflix 'To Watch' list.

In case you've not been keeping up, the Western spoof features six leads. Sandler is White Knife, atypically dialled-down and attempting a Clint Eastwood growl. Taylor Lautner, providing the film's gamest performance, is Lil Pete, a cantaloupe-fucking, three-nippled halfwit. Jorge Garcia is Herm, a Hagrid-esque oaf. Luke Wilson is Danny, a gunslinger with a dark and desperately unfunny secret. Terry Crews is Chico, whose function is to play the piano and take his shirt off a few times. And Schneider is Ramon — but enough about him.

The Native American people have suffered any number of indignities over the years. But they haven't, until now, suffered Adam Sandler.

Spanning a punishing two-hour run-time (only eight minutes shorter than The Magnificent Seven, but with several more references to "weenie pee-pee"), the adventure takes many detours. These include a bewildering subplot in which John Turturro invents baseball, the sight of Harvey Keitel being menaced by an evil doll, and the astonishing spectacle that is Vanilla Ice playing Mark Twain, pitching his new book to David Spade's General Custer with the words, "White boy goes raftin' with a brother. People gonna lose their shit!"

Netflix have clearly given Sandler and director Frank Coraci (Blended, Zookeeper) a budget at least as generous as those they've been accustomed to. There are Monument Valley vistas and cameos from the likes of Danny Trejo and Steve Buscemi. But the latter, as a barber with a disgustingly all-purpose cream, provides oases of humour in a desert that's otherwise largely arid. The good news: thanks to the fact the film is skipping cinemas and coming direct to Netflix, you can schedule as many Hateful Eight-style intermissions as you like.

Less Spaghetti Western, more 49p-Tin-Of-Spaghetti-Hoops Western. Stream at your peril.

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