Apparently, Adam Sandler has forgiven Drew Barrymore. I certainly haven't. How can somebody make a film as hideously awful as "Charlie's Angels 2: Full Throttle" and ever be allowed to work again? If Drew were a major league ball player who screwed up like that, the team wouldn't just kick her down to the minors; it would deport her.

There just aren't many jobs where screwing up royally gets you more work (certain oily CEOs excepted). Drew's unimpeachable status, however, is confirmed by the soft, golden light she's bathed in throughout the film, the same one directors use in TV commercials to show that the constipation has gone away.

Drew is the beautiful Lucy Whitmore, whose only major drawback as dating fodder is that she's suffered a brain injury that prevents her from retaining short-term memories. Naturally, for Hawai'i veterinarian Henry Roth (Adam Sandler) this is less a reason to flee than to finally to devote himself to one woman, even if she does turn his life into an endless remake of "Groundhog Day."

Think "Memento" meets "When Harry Met Sally." Sadly, the director spends so much time setting up the preposterous premise that the second half of the film is like watching a bear trying to free its leg from a steel trap. Apparently, Lucy has been living nearly a whole year waking up every morning thinking it's the same day, and everyone around her bends over backwards to play along.

If only I could wake up tomorrow and forget this film.