Image courtesy of Touchstone Pictures.
The Waterboy
Still from "The Waterboy"
Can you love and hate a movie at the same time really? Is that even possible? Sure. How do I know? Because of the wasabi pea test. It also works if you’re a fan of horseradish or shishito peppers.
Here’s what I mean: wasabi peas are my favorite snack. I love the crunch; I hate the intermittent burn. If I make the same faces while watching a movie that I do while eating a bag of wasabi peas, then I know I both really, truly, equally hate and love it.
For me, re-watching the Louisiana-set 1998 sports comedy The Waterboy is a lot like eating fistfuls of wasabi peas, lapping up a glob of horseradish mustard on a pretzel, or biting into the wrong shishito pepper. There are a handful of good, savory moments interrupted by bits so painful they burn my brain. And yet, I want more.
I didn’t always feel this way about The Waterboy. When it originally came out, I was in sixth grade and didn’t understand why Adam Sandler insisted on mocking my backyard, favorite foods, or the way my grandparents talked. At that age, if just one thing put me off, I wanted nothing to do with it. Olives and oysters tasted weird, so I hated them. Meredith Blake put a kink in Lindsay Lohan’s plan to get her family back together in the 1998 remake of The Parent Trap, and you know what? I double-hated her.
But something happened in the last few years of my thirties, when I started re-examining old nineties movies with a more mature (read: older and more tired) lens.
All of a sudden, villains like the mom in Mrs. Doubtfire and Mr. Wilson in Dennis the Menace seemed … sensible. Even the evil stepmother Meredith Blake had a point (Can you imagine if you finally found a decent man and his daughters kept trying to kill you at a campsite?! ). Could I have been too harsh on The Waterboy?
I set out to find out. Well, actually, I sat down on the couch and fired up Hulu to find out. And in the process, I discovered some helpful ways to love—and still hold a massive South Louisiana-certified grudge against—The Waterboy.
For me, re-watching the Louisiana-set 1998 sports comedy The Waterboy his a lot like eating fistfuls of wasabi peas, lapping up a glob of horseradish mustard on a pretzel, or biting into the wrong shishito pepper. There are a handful of good, savory moments interrupted by bits so painful they burn my brain. And yet, I want more.
Turn Off Subtitles
It really helps if you can’t see what you think you just heard. This is because you have no way of ever confirming if you should be offended or not. Seriously, try it!
Disabling subtitles also makes Farmer Fran’s character instantly more palatable. Instead of seeing “Cajun Dialect” on screen while a man pinches his nipples so hard it makes him garble, trick yourself into thinking he’s speaking fluent Louisiana French. Et voila! You’ll swear you hear him saying our native word for frog, “ouaouarons,” at least twice.
Pro tip: after doing this, note how the long pauses that follow Farmer Fran’s lines don’t feel as awkward as they did before. Now it feels less like people are looking at him like he’s crazy and more like they are envious he can speak a second language.
[Read this: Satire: Making Roux from Scratch]
Know your Cajun H2O history
As a former competitive South Louisiana cheerleader—who even had cheer P.E. in high school—I am appalled that Adam Sandler would insinuate we’d be blackout drunk on school property when the Taco Bell parking lot was always way more convenient.
What makes up for this blunder, however, is the way Sandler pays homage to Bobby Boucher’s Cajun ancestors by making him a water czar.
As you know, Cajun people are descendants of Acadians—the French settlers of Nova Scotia, Canada—known for their skills in constructing dykes for managing their farms. After being deported in the eighteeth century and dumped in Louisiana, this expertise helped them adapt well to the wet, marshy conditions of their new home. I like to believe Sandler Googled this exact fact and fought to put H2O at the heart of our tall, dark, and hydrated leading man’s storyline. I must believe.
As a former competitive South Louisiana cheerleader—who even had cheer P.E. in high school—I am appalled that Adam Sandler would insinuate we’d be blackout drunk on school property when the Taco Bell parking lot was always way more convenient.
Call Your Mama
If you hate Bobby Boucher’s mama because she thinks everything is “the devil,” then stop what you're doing right now and call your own mama. Tell her you’re gonna quit your job to play football and see if she doesn't try to cast a demon out of you. The thing to remember here is that Bobby Boucher’s mama at least apologizes for her emotional immaturity in the end, allowing herself and Bobby to heal and move forward from generational trauma.
Did you hear that? She apologizes! Heals generational trauma! When’s the last time your mama did that?
Heal Your Inner Vicki Vallencourt
Yes, she breaks the law and people’s jaws, but you know what else she breaks? The stereotype. Southern women are often portrayed as damsels in distress. Not Miss Vallencourt. She can take care of herself, and her car, and your ex’s car if he or she makes you mad. You know what else she breaks? My heart. Everyone in the movie treats her like she’s beneath them, but that girl’s got a heart of purple and gold. Her tough exterior may not be polished enough for some Southern sororities, but I know this—she’s a real sister, the type that will help you bury the body.
[Read this: "Satire: Meet The American Girl® Acadian Collection"]
Imagine the food in five-star restaurants
Braised alligator head, barbequed snake, and frog cakes all look a little crazy when you see them on screen, but when I look at my track record in licking plates clean at my favorite Cajun restaurants, I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t at least try one of those dishes if an acclaimed chef like Melissa M. Martin, the James Beard award-winning author of Mosquito Supper Club, served me a catfish crème brûlée. I'm telling you right now I’d slurp it down like a jello shot, no hands, no questions asked.
Make like ‘Roberto’
Roberto is the name Bobby Boucher’s father “Robert” gives himself after running off to New Orleans with a voodoo priestess named Phyllis. This is a huge revelation at the end of the film that concludes with most characters growing and evolving past their fears. People do shitty things. And people can evolve and change, too. I love this part of the movie, watching the cast become their 2.0 selves. And I believe this movie can evolve and change too.
I think we deserve a sequel, The Waterboy 2.0, with an evolved Uncut Gems Adam Sandler as coach and Channing Tatum as the next Bobby Boucher. Oh, plus his dialect coach, the one who helped him with his gorgeous Gambit accent in Deadpool & Wolverine. Yep, that’ll do.
