Stop the presses: After a nearly ceaseless stream of friend get-togethers and international vacations masquerading as feature films, Adam Sandler’s Happy Madison Productions finally delivers a respectable comedy with You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah. An adaptation of Fiona Rosenbloom’s 2005 YA novel of the same name, this coming-of-age tale is both funny and charming, and consequently proof that Sandler still has the capacity to spearhead (as opposed to just for-hire headline) a competent movie—including one featuring those closest to him.
Rather than providing jobs for his best comedy buddies, You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah (out Aug. 25 on Netflix) is populated by Sandler’s actual family, beginning with younger daughter Sunny as Stacy Friedman, a seventh grader on the cusp of her eagerly anticipated bat mitzvah—which, in a concise introduction, is defined for gentile viewers as a rite of passage for all observant 13-year-old Jewish girls.
For Stacy’s parents Bree (Idina Menzel) and Danny (Sandler), the most important components of this event are the Torah readings and prayers that Stacy must perfect, as well as her mitzvah project (i.e., a good-deed undertaking). For Stacy, however, what counts is the lavish party that follows the religious ceremony, and planning for that gala is the dominant pastime for both her and lifelong best friend Lydia (Samantha Lorraine).
Directed by Sammi Cohen from a screenplay by Alison Peck, You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah has the jaunty energy of a teen film and very little of the slacker-ish humor of a typical Sandler effort.
Brightly shot, snappily paced, and scored to pop hits from the likes of Dua Lipa and Olivia Rodrigo, it initially finds California girls Stacy and Lydia concocting grand designs for their respective shindigs (Lydia’s theme is Candyland; Stacy’s is New York) and, also, dealing with the typical ups and downs of early teenagerdom. That includes embarrassing calls from dad about which tampons to purchase, awkward conversations with a trio of mean girls, and cute boys—specifically, Andy Goldfarb (Dylan Hoffman), an uber-confident athletic dreamboat who makes Stacy swoon even when he’s opening his mouth to reveal a less-than-scintillating personality.
To Lydia as well as the additional two members of their clique, Tara (Dylan Dash) and Nikki (Millie Thorpe)—the latter of whom has persistent run-ins with razors that will no doubt strike a chord with target-demographic viewers—Stacy makes no bones about her crush on Andy. Following a soccer-ball-to-the-face mishap that affords her an initial reason to speak to him, Stacy wows Andy at an exclusive get-together, only to then have her shining moment in the spotlight spoiled by unexpected humiliation.
Worse, Stacy believes that, during this crisis, Lydia didn’t have her back. This isn’t altogether fair on Stacy’s part, but she gets a serious reason to split with her BFF when she catches Lydia smooching Andy and then outright dating him. Once tied to Lydia’s hip, Stacy now declares unofficial war on her, beginning with nasty rumor-mongering and ending with conniving boyfriend theft.
You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah is the story of a civil war between figurative sisters, and it proves a literal family affair for Sandler, whose older daughter Sadie appears as Stacy’s horror movie-loving high-school sibling Ronnie, and whose wife Jackie co-stars as Lydia’s mom Gabi. Despite the nepotistic nature of this venture, Sandler’s offspring acquit themselves nicely; Sadie has a touch of her dad’s wiseass comic timing and Sunny makes for a charismatically unsure-of-herself lead. Their awkwardness is sometimes difficult to miss, yet it’s largely in tune with their characters, and Peck’s script keeps things lighthearted throughout, no matter that her two protagonists soon begin viewing each other as scheming adversaries.
Playing Menzel’s husband for the second time in four years (they were also spouses in 2019’s far more adult Uncut Gems), Sandler slips comfortably into his grouchy-dad supporting role, wearing bathrobes to the movies (where he covets buttery popcorn) and complaining about the suits he has to don for the myriad bar and bat mitzvahs he and all other neighborhood Jews must attend.
You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah is too cartoony to paint anything more than a superficial portrait of contemporary Jewish life, and at least one of its subplots—namely, Stacy and Lydia temporarily leaving Tara and Nikki behind in order to chase popular-girl acceptance—is set up and then promptly discarded. Still, it has a knack for eliciting casual chuckles from modern parent-child dynamics, with complaints about grown-ups’ questionable language and kids’ private silliness underscoring that, while the specifics may change, the differences between young and old remain the same.
You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah rounds out its cast with You Don’t Mess with the Zohan’s Ido Mosseri as DJ Schmuley (a local favorite to everyone except Danny), Luis Guzmán as Gabi’s soon-to-be ex-husband, and Sarah Sherman as chipper wannabe-hip Rabbi Rebecca, whose corny catch phrases serve as fodder for Stacy’s impersonations. As far as caricatures go, Rebecca and her synagogue partner Cantor Jerry (Dan Bulla) are rather tame, and so too is the film, determined as it is to primarily target an under-16 demographic.
No matter the raft of mortifying mess-ups and painful betrayals, the proceedings are consistently earnest and sweet, replete with Sunny periodically speaking to the Almighty in voiceover (à la Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret) and heartening resolutions that celebrate the value of being yourself (versus faking it to fit in) and putting friendship above all other concerns—including boys.
In that regard, You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah is a gently feminist offering in the spirit of Greta Gerwig’s recent Barbie, preaching that independence and sisterhood are far more important than hunks with nice heads of hair—unless, of course, they’re disarmingly sweet guys who care about faith and community. It would be going too far to call the film progressive, but considering the juvenile nature of so much of Sander’s prior output, it’s probably as close as any Happy Madison production has come to maturity—making it, in a certain sense, the comedian’s own cinematic version of a mitzvah.
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