Russian Literature is so tedious. There is no Russian writer better than America's own Adam Sandler.

People dismiss Jack and Jill as Adam Sandler in a dress, which is rather like dismissing The Brothers Karamazov as some men being upset about their father.

Dostoevsky's The Double concerns a man tormented by another version of himself. Sandler advances the inquiry by asking: what if that version came for Thanksgiving and wouldn't fucking leave?

Casting himself as both siblings makes Jack's disgust at Jill an unmistakable act of self-loathing. He longs to exclude her from his comfortable bourgeois existence, yet everywhere he looks, there is his own face. Critics complained that Jill was unbearable, apparently unaware that estrangement from the self is supposed to be uncomfortable.

Al Pacino, appearing as Al Pacino, completes the study of fractured identity. His pursuit of Jill suggests a desperate attempt to encounter something authentic beyond performance. This culminates in the Dunkin' Donuts commercial, where even his name is consumed by capital: Al becomes Dunkaccino.

When Pacino demands that the commercial be destroyed, he finally achieves the moral clarity denied to the other characters. The audience has generally reached this position much earlier.

It's so unfair that Sandler won both Worst Actor and Worst Actress, while Pacino won only one award: Worst Supporting Actor.