Adam Sandler’s Animated "Leo" is the Right Amount of Wrong

Enjoy some naughty laughs

Dear Coddling Movie Community,

With holiday vacation time winding down, I’m sure I’m not the only parent running out of solid Family Movie Night options.

So I thought the time would be right for this essay of mine that examines some pleasant surprises viewers will find in the Netflix animated movie Leo.

And you don’t even have to watch it with kids. I’ve heard it said that good children’s literature should be of interest even to adults. The same is true for children's movies.

All the best,

Ted

P.S. By the way, the movie also includes some hilarious lampooning of helicopter parents.

Don’t cry. Crying’s for weaklings.

Don’t cry. It’s lazy and dumb.

Dry those tears. They make you look ugly.

Suck it up. You mustn't succumb.

Do you think such lyrics would ever make their way into a typical grammar school classroom? A typical daycare? A typical animated kids’ movie?

Well, you will find that song in an animated kids’ movie. Not only that, but the adult protagonist sings it to a little girl after she is brought to tears while remembering her deceased grandpa.

Yikes!

That seems a tad problematic, yet the scene made me laugh out loud. And lest you think I’m uniquely heartless, my wife and nine-year-old son enjoyed it just as much.

But my recap doesn’t tell the whole story.

First, the protagonist is a 74-year-old talking lizard named Leo. And the brainy little girl to whom the song is directed, receives the ditty in the spirit of compassion that Leo intended. The grizzled lizard had already earned her trust, and he sings those problematic lyrics with tenderness.

So why did that scene play so well during Family Movie Night?

It’s because it communicates something surprising and subversive. We do, after all, live in an emotive age.

Open up!

Share your feelings!

Don’t be ashamed!

My son, my wife, and I are used to movies, shows, educators, parents, and others communicating that idea. So it feels nice to share a naughty laugh.

And yes, the filmmakers create a subversive scene, but they don’t overdo it. It’s like that ad for the Vegas hotel, The Cosmopolitan—they achieve “just the right amount of wrong.”

Not *Just* Wrong

And the song isn’t just wrong for the sake of subversion. Its wrongness is, in an important sense, right. It’s right because it communicates an important truth.

Consider how it continues:

Everyone’s stuck with something they’re stuck with,

Everyone's trapped in something they hate.

What does it solve to blubber and WAAH, WAAH, WAAH!

Why not be strong? Make the best of your fate.

Indulging our feelings too much can make us weak, and miserable. It can also make us miss the big picture. We may overlook the suffering of others, and that’s bad for everyone.

Our family members, friends, colleagues, even the people in line at the post office—they’re all dealing with hardships. Chances are many of them are suffering far more than we are. They deserve our support.

And there’s also a twisted comfort in the thought of many people struggling as they go about their day-to-day activities. We humans can function pretty well even in the midst of great suffering. When we pay attention to what others are going through, we might think to ourselves: If they can do it, so can I.

And we may never know who’s suffering the most. People’s external reactions are notoriously unreliable. The too-chipper supermarket clerk might be dealing with a terrible diagnosis or trying to reconnect with an estranged child.

Many years ago, a family friend named Ann lost her husband suddenly. He was barely middle aged and she and her husband had two teenagers about my age. I remember being flustered at the funeral. I had no idea what to say to any of them.

Many years later, I literally don’t know what Ann went through. I know it’s a pain I cannot imagine, but I also know that she kept on living the way she had always lived. Her wry wit stayed fully intact, and she’s remained as charming and upbeat as ever.

Despite tremendous pain, Ann kept it together. And her example helps others (myself included) keep it together too.

Weakness is contagious, but so is strength.

What We’re Missing

The man behind the lizard is Adam Sandler.

Not only does he deliver some hilarious voice acting (along with Bill Burr who voices Squirtle, Leo’s insecure tortoise sidekick), but Sandler is also the producer. Leo is another product of Sandler’s massive deal with Netflix, and I wonder if execs at the streaming giant realize that the SNL alumnus adds a dash of viewpoint diversity to their programming.

Sandler doesn’t talk politics, but throughout the years he’s signaled that he’s not on board with the monoculture worldview. I mean, Leo even takes a dig at The Shape of Water!

But it’s not like Sandler’s lizard movie is merely a collection of ideas that would not go over well at a typical Santa Monica dinner party. Sandler conforms to industry expectations in various ways—for instance, girls take the lead in anything science-related and the fifth grade class at the center of the story is about as diverse as an Ivy League brochure.

Yet the slightly problematic crying scene supports the film’s larger theme, one that strikes me as pretty uncommon.

Instead of offering yet another iteration of “be true to yourself!,” the film suggests that viewers stop thinking of themselves so much. A talkative little girl discovers that she makes more friends once she asks other people about themselves. Her example inspires the rich “mean girl” to do the same, and then Leo broadens his lesson in perspective.

With the sweetness of a Brooklyn grandpa, he teaches the rich girl that even though her dad is a wealthy plastic surgeon who knows Guy Fieri, her family is, in the words of another memorable song, “not that great.”

A Lizard Searches for Truth

Hollywood often responds to old cliches, not by offering viewers a smorgasbord of viewpoints, but by endlessly rehashing new cliches. Sandler’s Leo provides a small glimpse of what we film lovers are missing. And it accomplishes that while avoiding heavy-handed overcorrection.

As Leo finishes serenading the brainy little girl, she snuggles into bed and is about ready to drift off. Then suddenly, she throws back her covers and grabs a biology textbook from her bookcase. She reads aloud.

“Scientific research has established that crying releases Oxytocin and endorphins.” Leo grins lovingly as she continues, “These feel-good chemicals help relieve both physical and emotional pain.”

Leo was partly right—we shouldn’t overdo it with the blubbering.

And the little girl was partly right—we shouldn’t overdo it with the stoicism.

Each character contributed a piece of the truth and graciously accepted another piece of truth. The film’s wrongness helped both of them get closer to being right.