Starring: Adam Sandler (I), Téa Leoni, Paz Vega, Cloris Leachman

2 out of 10 stars: Here's a one-word movie review of James L. Brooks's new film: Spanguish.

Anguish because it's long, unfunny, unfocused. Anguish because it's an immensely needy film that almost immediately goes into the prone position and begs us to have mercy on it. Anguish because it deserves none, even for those longtime fans, such as me, of Brooks's past work.

Spanglish starts with a deadly device. We listen to a voice-over, which is supposed to be the text of a college application to Princeton by Christina Moreno, as we watch the review board bulldoze their way through the yearly freshman submissions. The topic that Christina is writing about is "the person I admire most." Now, perhaps Princeton does indeed require students to write a junior high essay as part of their admissions process, but it's a fishy proposition from the start.

Christina's subject is her mother, Flor Moreno (played by the voluptuous, gorgeous Paz Vega). Brooks then goes into a flashback to tell the story of Flor raising her little girl to be strong and independent and see? it worked because she's Mexican and she's applying to Princeton.

The college application is the canary in the coal mine of this film but the truly noxious gasses are right behind.

Flor moves her daughter to California and settles into the Latino community of L.A. She soon wants to give her daughter a better life so she becomes a maid in the Clasky household. Deborah Clasky (Téa Leoni) is a pushy, driven career woman who has recently returned to being a full-time mother. "Gulp," says Deborah. "Double-gulp," says her daughter Bernice (Sarah Steele). "Triple gulp" says the audience, as they realize that fifteen minutes has elapsed and, um, nothing's funny yet.

Flor doesn't speak any English but she gets along very well with John Clasky (Adam Sandler). John is a chef who is under a lot of pressure in the wake of a rapturous review of his restaurant. So laid back he's reclining he cringes at the thought that after a four-star review there's no place to go but down. He's also worried about the new popularity of his establishment, as it's bound to take him away from his kids.

He can't be as worried about taking time away from his marriage. Deborah is a perfectionist who is equally as upset at herself as anyone else in the household. She sees their parenting of their child as "good guy, bad guy" with herself in the latter role.

John and Flor see eye-to-eye on child-rearing, even though she's a bit disgusted at his sensitivity. Eventually they find an attraction to one another, even as Deborah is out having an affair. She's also impressing Christina (Shelbie Bruce) with the promise of the affluent lifestyle, including the expense and privilege of a private school.

It's hard to believe that one of James L. Brooks's strengths has been his ability to convey the relationships of parents and their children, because he is dreadful, in Spanglish anyway, of conveying the relationship of parents and their kids.

There are certain directors who work very, very well with kids. Steven Spielberg is one of them. I used to think Brooks, mostly because of the performances by Debra Winger's two boys in Terms of Endearment, was too. I do not think this any more. Poor Shelbie Bruce (Christina) and Sarah Steele (Bernice) are forced to give to of the most forced kid performances in recent memory. Brooks has Christina interpret a tirade Flor has and he has her act as upset as Flor, even though Christina has stated she's embarrassed to do a verbatim rendition. So she does an exact translation and puts on the act of being angry? Poor Steele is allowed to do the "rejoinder" kid roll. A kid with something smart to say, be it cutting, acute, precious, at all times. She's a rimshot.

Sandler, who was very good in Punch-Drunk Love, is largely adrift here. If Brooks used the comedian's best takes when editing the reported miles and miles of footage he shot then it must have been a painful experience for both director and actor. It's certainly painful for us when John Clasky explodes at Flor, finally able to vent to a reasonable human being (he walks on eggshells around the hyper-volatile Deborah).

Leoni's task is thankless and largely ugly. Brooks always gives some element of redemption to even his most odious characters and this is true for Deborah. But Brooks seems to be taking special glee in knocking her down, not appreciating her wonderful husband, wallowing in her own self-loathing, resorting to adultery. If Brooks isn't working a divorce out of his system, you sure could have fooled me.

He still manages to finagle a number of those Poor Richard maxims that seem to both ring true and fit, however: "If you think you're at a crossroads, you are," "There are some mistakes you can't make when you have children," and concerning the pressure for children to conform, "Between odd and the same you gotta be rooting for odd, don't you?" He gives all these lines to Sandler.

Left pretty much without any good lines is the best thing about Spanglish, Paz Vega. Vega was the titular character in Sex and Lucia (a film I've always referred to as the "geoduck movie") and she is luminous and strong but mostly luminous. When her eyes light up the camera captures them. You can't blame Clasky for falling in love with her common sense and her tenderness. And her hotness.

But there are other things to complain about: Brooks uses process shots while the characters are driving that look like he insisted in using the latest in 1982 technology. The incidental music by Hans Zimmer is a low point in frolicking music. The editing is a salvage piece. In the trailer, there is a rather long snippet where we see Leoni having a tantrum in the shower. It's not in the movie. Instead we see her toweling off. Near the end of the film Flor says goodbye to the family and she says to the Clasky's son, George, "You're a wonderful boy." Not to us he isn't. We don't even know the piker. We've seen him lay by the pool. We've seen him sing sad cabaret songs with his grandma (Cloris Leachman) but we've not seen a darn thing that even sniffs of "wonderful." But Brooks wants us to know he's wonderful. There are also painful and protracted stretches after punchlines where you know they've lengthened the scene because, they're assuming, that the audience is laughing and they don't want the noise drowning out the next line. No such luck.

In Brook's I'll Say Anything Joely Richardson's character, a production assistant named Cathy, is in a casting session for a role in an upcoming film. She's asked, as part of a group about the sexiness of Nick Nolte's character, luckless actor Matt Hobbs, with whom she's had an affair. The question is posed, "Would she fuck him." "No," she demurs, though she obviously has.

I empathize with Richardson's character now that I've seen Spanglish. Though a longtime fan of his work—and I'm certain he will rise again--I have to demur (and feel like a heel in the process) with this completely unfuckable movie.