Hell hath no fury like a sequel done right. After more than two decades, Adam Sandler’s cult classic Little Nicky returns with a surprisingly sweet — and devilishly funny — continuation that finds laughter in damnation and heart in the heat. Little Nicky 2 (2025) doesn’t just revisit the chaos of the underworld; it reimagines it through the lens of family, forgiveness, and fiery fatherhood. The result is a wild, warm, and unapologetically weird comedy that proves Sandler still knows how to blend absurdity with soul.
The story picks up years after the first film, with Nicky — still endearingly awkward, still half-angel and half-devil — now trying his hand at fatherhood. His teenage son, Lucas (played by up-and-coming star Finn Wolfhard), is everything Nicky once feared he’d be: rebellious, impatient, and completely uninterested in his father’s life lessons about humility and love. When Lucas’s uncontrollable powers accidentally tear a hole between Heaven, Hell, and Earth, chaos literally erupts — and the two are forced on a road trip across realms to set things right.
From the moment they hit the fiery highways of the underworld, the film bursts with creative energy. Sandler, now an older and slightly wearier Nicky, plays the role with a touching mix of nostalgia and nuance. He’s no longer just the awkward son of Satan — he’s a dad trying to protect his own kid from making the same mistakes. His nervous stammer and lovable weirdness remain intact, but there’s a tenderness now that grounds the madness.
The comedic rhythm is pure Sandler — a mix of slapstick chaos, bizarre one-liners, and left-field cameos that feel like fever dreams. Returning fan favorite Mr. Beefy, the talking bulldog voiced again by Robert Smigel, steals every scene with his dry sarcasm and occasional bouts of unexpected wisdom. Patricia Arquette’s presence as Valerie adds balance to the infernal chaos; her grounding performance keeps the story tethered to something human, even when demons and angels start bickering over cosmic paperwork.
Director Steven Brill, who also helmed the original, brings back the visual camp of early-2000s comedies but polishes it for a modern audience. The underworld has never looked this good — glowing red caverns, neon-lit soul markets, and an endless pit of forgotten influencers are just a few of the imaginative touches that make Hell oddly inviting. There’s a playfulness to the design that mirrors the film’s tone: dark, yes, but never mean-spirited.
The emotional core of Little Nicky 2 lies in its father-son bond. Beneath all the chaos and cartoonish violence, the movie is about learning to connect across generational divides. Nicky, who once struggled to earn his father’s respect, now faces the same challenge from the other side. The scenes between Sandler and Wolfhard are surprisingly affecting — a blend of exasperation, guilt, and unconditional love. Their chemistry carries the story when the jokes quiet down, revealing the film’s unexpected depth.
And yet, Little Nicky 2 never forgets to be ridiculous. There are jokes about celestial tax audits, karaoke battles between angels, and an entire sequence where Nicky tries to “modernize” Hell’s punishment systems with social media algorithms — with predictably disastrous results. The humor swings wildly between clever satire and juvenile gags, but Sandler’s charm holds it all together. You laugh, even when you know you shouldn’t.
What’s remarkable is how the film uses absurdity to explore legacy. Just as the first Little Nicky was about carving one’s identity in a divided world, the sequel is about passing that identity on — the hope that your kids will inherit your heart, even if they also inherit your horns. The script’s balance of ridiculous comedy and genuine sentiment recalls Sandler’s best work, from Click to The Wedding Singer, proving once again that his goofiness and sincerity are two sides of the same coin.
Cameos abound — with surprise appearances from longtime Sandler collaborators like Rob Schneider, Kevin Nealon, and even an angelic Drew Barrymore in a scene so unexpected it might just bring tears. The soundtrack, a glorious mix of heavy metal, gospel, and ironic pop, underscores the film’s identity crisis in the best possible way.
By the final act, Little Nicky 2 evolves into something both touching and triumphant. The climax — a father and son literally rebuilding Hell together — captures everything that made the first film beloved: chaos, compassion, and a message wrapped in madness. It’s loud, it’s messy, and it’s weirdly beautiful.
When the smoke clears, Sandler stands victorious — not just as a comedian, but as a storyteller who’s learned to embrace his own legacy. Little Nicky 2 isn’t just a sequel; it’s a redemption arc for a character, an actor, and perhaps even a genre of comedy we thought we’d outgrown. It’s proof that sometimes, the funniest place to find grace… is in Hell itself.
