One of the laziest films in recent memory (even by straight to streaming standards), the unconscionably shoddy family action comedy Playdate is a mess of unfunny jokes, poorly crafted set pieces, and not even a shred of connective tissue to tie it all together. An abomination that’s elevated minimally by two good performances (only one of them being a lead), Playdate is a mire of bad action, subpar dad jokes, and references to dozens of other films and series that are more worthy of one’s time than any second of screen time here. Although it has been made by people who have many credits to their name, if it were to come out that Playdate was written and cut together by an assembly line of computer programs and was untouched by human hands at any point, I wouldn’t blink an eye. If the humans who foisted this on an unsuspecting public actually took credit for it, I would be aghast (but also unsurprised).
Recently let go from his job down at the bro factory (where he’s the token old guy around a bunch of millennial nepo-babies), Brian Jennings (Kevin James) suddenly finds himself with time on his hands. Brian would love to connect with his son, Lucas (Benjamin Pajak), but dad loves sports and his kid loves musical theatre. On a day off from school, Brian takes Lucas to the park to toss the ol’ pigskin around, and they meet the oddball father-son duo of Jeff Eamon (Alan Ritchson) and his dead-eyed kid, CJ (Banks Pierce). Jeff is the kind of manly man that Brian wishes he could be, but the more jacked up ex-military grunt turned security guard has a tendency to come on strong. After only knowing each other for a few minutes, Jeff assumes that Brian is already his best friend in the entire world and decides they should spend the day together because CJ and Lucas are getting on surprisingly well. But Jeff and CJ have a secret that finds them the target of some ruthless bad guys (led by a barely there Alan Tudyk) who want to take the kid. Things escalate, and soon Brian and Lucas are on the run alongside Jeff, with everyone needing to clear their names and stop the bad guys.
Comedic director Luke Greenfield (The Girl Next Door, The Animal, Let’s Be Cops) isn’t a skilled technician, but in his past efforts he at least showed an understanding of how jokes and gags work, a talent that’s nowhere to be found here. The script from sitcom writer Neil Goldman is patently unusable and devoid of any unifying tone or concept. The action is too weak and sanitized to appeal to genre buffs and undiscerning dads, but the pathetic, pandering, and numerous references to much better movies (Forest Gump, Jurassic Park, Boyz N The Hood, Apocalypse Now, Reservoir Dogs) suggest that this is geared towards that exact audience. There’s almost nothing for a kid to find funny here, since it can’t reference anything later than the mid-90s and nothing in the plot is designed to hold their attention.
Greenfield doesn’t so much direct as he just seems to let things happen, and the script gives no one on screen anything to rally around as a centre. Playdate (which bears a passing resemblance to the long forgotten Tom Arnold dud Carpool) bounces wildly from one unbelievable, inexplicable scene to the next without a care in the world and even less care for the audience experience. Come to think of it, as inappropriate as it might be, dads would be better off just showing their kids Boyz N The Hood or Reservoir Dogs, because despite the potential trauma and tons of questions they’ll likely ask, at least they’ll be watching movies where something worthwhile actually happens.
The soundtrack is populated by identifiable pop classics designed to provoke some kind of reaction while everything else is failing around the movie. The action scenes are marred by hokey visual effects and inscrutable editing, with all of them set on the blandest soundstages, abandoned warehouse, or most uninspired Canadian strip malls the production team could find. (Shoutout to the Cineplex that has been unconvincingly redesigned to look like a Chuck E. Cheese knock-off.) The jokes are frequently of the loathsome “no sissies,” “millennials and Gen-Z’s are too coddled,” and “no fat chicks” variety, but devoid of any toothsomeness that could make them feel even the slightest bit offensive or biting.
There’s plenty of horrible ADR that’s clearly being employed to paper over some salty language in post-production to get a more family friendly rating, but you can still see someone take an arrow straight up the butthole. A bunch of credible supporting actors (Isla Fisher, Stephen Root, Paul Walter Hauser, the latter of whom gets the only real laugh here) show up for thankless bit parts that are incapable of moving the entertainment needle. There’s product placement aplenty for the likes of Tostitos, Kings Hawaiian, Jif, Honda, and of course, Amazon, but all of them end up looking worse for their participation here instead of getting some free advertising. But overall, Playdate fails hardest by never once creating characters that feel, move, talk, or react like human beings and places everyone into situations that have been designed and executed with no care or forethought whatsoever.
James shows no enthusiasm for his character whatsoever, and it’s hard to blame his lack of trying. He coasts through every scenes like he’s going to check to his phone to see if Adam Sandler has called as soon as Greenfield yells cut. The buddy aspect of Playdate is so rushed and forced that we’re just supposed to assume these kids are friends and no care at all whether or not the adults are having a good time, making the premise impossible to buy into, especially when the secrets behind Jeff and CJ’s relationship are made known and the film slides into even goofier territory. And through it all, James acts as if all of this is beneath him, making Ritchson’s dumbass act more interesting to watch than the leading man’s sourpuss schtick.
In truth, the film might’ve worked better if the whole “playdate” angle was ditched entirely and everything just focused on Jeff and CJ. Ritchson isn’t doing much more than a beefier Mark Wahlberg impression, but it’s passable, and to the actor’s credit, he looks like he’s trying to have some fun and inject some energy into this lifeless mess. And for his part as Ritchson’s mysterious, humourless, super strong counterpart, Pierce steals every scene he’s in, almost like he’s from a much more watchable bit of entertainment. Greenfield’s direction and the unbearably awful editing always undermine their efforts, and there’s no way to make this material any good, but Ritchson and Pierce aren’t the problems here. If anything, they’re the sole bright spots in a very dim movie.
They still aren’t enough to recommend Playdate to anyone, and neither is strong or seasoned enough as a performer to carry a doomed project on their shoulders. There’s nothing worth actually recommending here, and the time one wastes watching it is something you’ll never get back. Every individual decision it makes is the wrong one. It’s a great example of the kind of film that doesn’t so much get released as it escapes from captivity to ruin the day of anyone who watches it. It’s the kind of “movie” that gives “content” a bad name. It’s not a movie you watch to enjoy. It’s something that happens to you.
Playdate streams on Prime Video starting Wednesday, November 12, 2025.
