These Guys Watch Adam Sandler’s ‘Click,’ the Most Demoralizing Film Ever Made, Every Single Week

This story is from the spring 2025 edition of VICE magazine: THE ROCK BOTTOM ISSUE. To subscribe to receive 4 print issues of our newly relaunched magazine each year, click here.

Ever had the misfortune of seeing Adam Sandler’s Click? I put it on to ease a hangover sometime in 2008, expecting a brain-numbing, heart-warming romp abiding by the same two-word arc that all Adam Sandler films abided by at that point (‘Idiot Prospers,’ if you were wondering). Instead, it left more dents in me than Requiem for a Dream, Salò, and Festen combined.

It goes a little something like this: Adam Sandler’s character finds a magic TV remote in a warehouse that can fast forward time itself. He rejoices because he can now skip all the boring parts of his life—arguments, being ill, eating dinner with his family—and go straight to the good stuff, like promotions and pay hikes. But then the magic TV remote ‘learns’ Sandler’s preferences and it goes rogue, choosing for itself which parts of his life to fast forward. Soon, Sandler is hurtling towards the grave, powerless to stop the remote; one minute, his kids are toddlers, the next they have gray hair; his wife marries their swimming coach; his dogs keep dying until one attacks him when he’s a pensioner and the doctors find out he has cancer.

The experience has never really left me.

This year, I came across the X account @ClickThinks, run by “two [anonymous] Australians who have been watching the Adam Sandler movie Click every week 2020 and will continue to do so for the rest of linear time.” I DM’d them to ask why they would do that to themselves.

VICE: How did this obsession with Click begin?
Click Fan: We started an online movie night during the pandemic. We didn’t think too hard about our first pick; we just landed on Click, thinking it’d be a fun, lighthearted watch. Honestly, I didn’t even like it that much. But then next week came around, and instead of something new, we just watched Click again. Five years on, we’re still watching Click every week as if it’s the only thing holding reality together. It’s like a dare that nobody backed out of.

Do you actually like it, though?
I like that it feels like a play, with a clear two-act structure. For the first half, it’s the kind of humor that Sandler fans would expect. But then, as the film transitions into its second act, it pulls the rug out from under you. Suddenly, it’s no longer about the comedic possibilities of a TV remote but about the devastating consequences of prioritizing the wrong things in life.

“Sure, some weeks we resent having to watch it but we’re always sure not to mistake any animosity for Click for animosity towards each other.”

I saw photos of your collection. How many physical versions of Click do you have?
Over 150; I don’t have a great categorisation system. My favorite is the Japanese version, which is called もしも昨日が選べたら over there, meaning: “If you could choose yesterday.” The Korean VHS tape is a close contender, and I’m currently eyeing up a rare Russian VHS copy. I also have a fourth draft script of the film, which is my pride and joy.

That’s cool but honestly, I think it’s maybe the saddest film ever made. The idea of life hurtling past you at unstoppable speed, directly towards death, all because of a broken TV remote, is absolutely horrifying to me.
The writers try to wrap it all up in a happy ending in a couple of minutes, so you’re forgiven if only the bleakness stuck with you.

How has your shared love of Click shaped your relationship with your friend?
It’s an excuse to hang out every week. Sure, some weeks we resent having to watch it but we’re always sure not to mistake any animosity for Click for animosity towards each other.

What can Click teach us about life and the human experience?
The film encourages us to reframe how we see our daily lives—not as filler between big events, but as the core of our human experience.

Follow Kevin Lee Kharas on X @kevkharas

This story is from the spring 2025 edition of VICE magazine: THE ROCK BOTTOM ISSUE. To subscribe to receive 4 print issues of our newly relaunched magazine each year, click here.