Entertainment

Adam & heave

Adam Sandler (left and right).

“Burn this. All copies must be destroyed. No good.’’

Al Pacino is reacting after watching his cringe-worthy song-and-dance number at the end of “Jack and Jill,’’ but this harsh assessment could easily be applied to the entirety of this gruesomely unfunny Adam Sandler vehicle.

The spectacle of Pacino mocking himself, “The Godfather’’ and “Scarface’’ in the nadir of his career tends to overshadow this fiasco’s very poorly executed central gimmick: Sandler in a dual role as male and female twins.

He gives his typically bored, lazy performance as Jack, a successful and obnoxious director of TV commercials who lives in Los Angeles with his wife (Katie Holmes, who looks embarrassed throughout) and children.

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Sandler is even harder to take — and not remotely convincing as a woman, even in a comic context — as Jack’s twin sister, Jill, a loud, stupid and shrill caricature of a Jewish spinster who comes to visit from The Bronx for Thanksgiving.

Jill wreaks havoc — the two or three moments that vaguely approach being amusing can be seen in the TV commercial that’s been playing in heavy rotation for weeks — and announces she’s staying through Hanukkah, much to her brother’s distress.

At a Lakers game, though, Jill catches the eye of the instantly smitten Pacino, whom Jack desperately needs to sign up for a Dunkin’ Donuts commercial.

Their first date — Al serenades Jill with “The Impossible Dream’’ while plying her with pastries at his home — ends in tears, possibly because she prefers Barry Manilow’s singing to Al’s croaking.

But Jack needs Al’s services in the worst way. So he cross-dresses (even less convincingly) and substitutes for his sister for a romantic rendezvous with Al on an ocean liner.

Only Al shows up with a helicopter and whisks “her’’ away to a castle in Europe. Where nothing really happens.

That’s because “Jack and Jill’’ is being cynically marketed as a PG-rated “family’’ comedy.

Personally, I’d be tempted to call child protective services on any parents who dragged their kids to a movie about a guy who is trying to pimp his sister, or an unreasonable facsimile, to Al Pacino.

Making “Little Fockers’’ look like “The Sound of Music,’’ there are also more flatulence jokes than I’ve ever seen in a single movie, beginning in the opening credits and reaching the lowest of many low points when Jill eats Mexican food for the first time.

“Is Evel Knievel popping wheelies in there?’’ Jack asks as his sister loudly drops “chimichanga bombs.”

Those are the jokes, folks.

Besides Mexicans, there are cruel gags targeted at South Asians (Sandler has an eccentric adopted son from India) and, of course, Jews (“What is Skype? It sounds anti-Semitic”), as well as references to hookers and men “using” women.

Your $12 will also buy you prominent plugs for American Airlines, Macy’s, Marshalls, Pepto-Bismol, Morton’s Steakhouse, Desenex foot powder and Subway (the latter apparently paid extra for an appearance by its mascot, Jared Fogle).

This being an Adam Sandler movie, there’s the usual motley assortment of celebrity cameos — Johnny Depp, Regis Philbin, John McEnroe, Shaquille O’Neal, Christie Brinkley and Drew Carey. And the inevitable assortment of Sandler’s pals: Allen Covert, Nick Swardson, Tim Meadows, Dana Carvey and (far more convincing as a woman than Sandler) David Spade.

Directed by another longtime cohort, Dennis Dugan (“Grown Ups’’) with all the skill of a blind parking lot attendant, the latest in a string of shapeless, overproduced Sandler messes is even worse than the appalling “Just Go With It” (which humiliated another Oscar winner, Nicole Kidman) earlier this year.

Apparently Sandler’s enablers at Sony will continue to greenlight pretty much anything he wants to do as long as his movies make money.

It’s pretty sad if you’re a comic and Al Pacino is the funniest thing in your movie. Pacino will probably seem most funny to people who haven’t seen most of his recent films, where he’s been bordering on self-parody for nearly a decade.

I have a theory that ghastly movies such as “Jack and Jill” almost invariably comment on their own awfulness.

Besides Pacino’s remark about destroying all copies (an excellent idea), there’s a reference to something “that makes me want to choke on my own vomit.” Just like this movie.