Happy Gilmore is More Than a Daddy Movie

Golf puns are as boring as the sport itself, so I'll get straight to it. Happy Gilmore is a gem of a movie, even in this decade. The film came out in 1996, and I’m so happy about its growth in popularity since its release. With the sequel coming out tomorrow, I was blasted with Happy Gilmore promotion on Netflix, and like the algorithm-pleasing people-pleaser I am, I watched it with a bucket full of butter chicken and mango lassi to deter any stereotypes, and had the best 1 hour and 30 minutes of my life. That sounds like an exaggeration, so let’s just say 1 hour and 25 minutes. Don’t you miss short movies?

Anyway, the movie on the surface feels like a slapstick-laden sports comedy about a hockey player turned golfer—which it absolutely is—but bear with me, it’s deeper. I came into the film expecting just that, and I got exactly that... just a bit more. The film's appeal comes from more than just its wild antics, quotable lines, and Sandler shenanigans. It's actually really wholesome and sweet, endearing, and overall a really fun movie, underpinned by heartfelt moments and a stellar cast.

This is usually a movie you’d expect to watch with your dad and question him about his taste—and why he’s getting so excited over the dream sequence thing—when you were 8. The first movie I really bonded with my dad over was The Dictator, so this movie would've been a breeze. But instead, I watched it in my early 20s with a bitter taste for all things sports and anything less than 120 minutes.

The first thing I really liked about Happy Gilmore is the absurdity of its world-building. The movie takes pretty insane turns, killing off a character here and there, chopping off a limb, the usual antics for a comedy. But the reason it works is because of how the film convinces you these absurdities are essential so the protagonist can reach their goal, and I’m here rooting for it.

Happy Gilmore isn’t your typical protagonist. He’s a washed-up, failed hockey player with a short fuse and an unconventional approach to life. Yet, there’s something inherently lovable about him. Sandler’s portrayal of Happy, with his quick temper and bizarre golf techniques, could have easily made him into a caricature—a man who yells, punches, and generally causes chaos. Instead, we root for him from the start because, beneath that gruff exterior, Happy is just a guy trying to help his grandmother (Frances Bay) save her home. From the moment Happy’s beloved grandmother is at risk of losing her house to the IRS, you understand that he’s not just driven by a selfish need to win; he really is just doing it out of love.

It’s a classic underdog setup, but Happy’s bumbling, out-of-place attitude in the world of highbrow golf makes him even more endearing. The heart of Happy Gilmore is Happy's devotion to his grandma, and it’s this thread that gives the movie its surprising emotional core. Sure, he’ll break a golf club over his knee or fight an alligator, but Happy will also wear an embarrassing costume in a subway station if it means winning a bet to get grandma’s house back.

The film thrives on the fish-out-of-water trope. Golf is a sport known for its decorum, rigid rules, and reserved audiences. Happy is the exact opposite: loud, aggressive, and completely uninterested in golf etiquette. The sight of him racing down the fairway, fist-pumping after a 400-yard drive while spectators look on in horror, is comedic gold. It’s like watching a bull let loose in an art gallery. Sandler’s talent for combining outrageous physical comedy with unexpected plot twists shines throughout this film, and this particular scene encapsulates the movie’s blend of chaos and hilarity. He’s a walking contradiction in a world that demands conformity, and watching him tear through it with unchecked energy is as satisfying as it is ridiculous.

But Happy Gilmore isn’t just about Happy’s journey—it’s also about the people around him. The supporting cast is top-notch, but the film's iconic villain takes it to the next level. Enter Shooter McGavin (Christopher McDonald), the smug, egotistical pro golfer who despises Happy’s very existence. Shooter is the ultimate nemesis, a guy who eats pieces of shit for breakfast (or, at least, doesn’t deny it when Happy suggests he does). His obsession with winning the coveted gold jacket and his disdain for Happy’s unrefined approach make him a perfectly punchable antagonist. And, let’s be honest, half the fun of the movie is watching Shooter’s plans get foiled, right up to his hilarious breakdown at the end when Happy wins the tournament.

But we can’t talk about the cast without giving props to Carl Weathers as Chubbs Peterson, the one-handed golf pro who mentors Happy. Chubbs is the film’s secret weapon, blending deadpan humour with genuine heart. His backstory—a golfer who lost his hand to an alligator- seems completely ridiculous on paper, but Weathers plays it with just the right amount of seriousness, which makes it all the more hilarious. When Happy eventually avenges Chubbs by defeating the alligator and presenting Chubbs with its head, we should feel bad for laughing, but we don’t. Chubbs' tragic exit from the world, though sentimental irl, is just hilarity in the film simply because of how mysterious this character was. So nonchalant over replacing his wooden hand whenever it breaks, yet deathly terrified of the alligator who caused the disability in the 1st place, just seems so weirdly plausible.

Golf isn’t exactly the most thrilling sport to watch on screen (ooooh, burned). But in Happy Gilmore, the sport is transformed into an arena for insane antics. From Happy’s slapshot golf swings to his violent clashes with other players, the film reinvents golf as something wild and unpredictable. The juxtaposition of Happy’s aggressive style with the snooty, rule-bound world of golf is endlessly entertaining. Happy may not be able to putt to save his life, but watching him knock a ball 400 yards makes golf feel like a sport you’d actually want to play. In my head, real golf is as fun as playing Topgolf in Dubai, where, as long as you hit the ball in the general area, you get points, and you're fueled by beer and chicken wings.

When Happy finally overcomes Shooter, it's not just a victory for Happy; it’s a victory for every person who’s ever been told they don’t belong in a certain space because they don’t fit the mould. It’s a celebration of individuality, wrapped in Sandler’s signature blend of crass humour and sweetness.

At its core, Happy’s quest to save his grandmother’s home may be filled with hijinks, but it’s always clear that his intentions are pure. His relationship with his grandmother is one of the sweetest parts of the film. Though contrasted with ironic if not morbid neglect in the nurse's home, the scenes where Happy goes to great lengths to ensure she’s taken care of are genuinely touching, and the bond they share is palpable and feels genuine.

In short, Happy Gilmore is the movie equivalent of a 400-yard drive: loud, fast, and straight to the heart. Whether it’s Happy’s wild journey from hockey to golf, his devotion to his grandmother, or his unorthodox style of play, this film is more than just a comedy. It’s a story about sticking it to the stuffy establishment, fighting for what you love, and maybe getting into a fistfight with Bob Barker along the way. I’m glad I watched this film on a random Sunday night at 1 a.m. before an eight-hour shift the next day, and I’m sure I’ll do it again for Happy Gilmore 2.