Sometimes, a movie comes along that is so great that, when you wipe a tear from your eye at its conclusion, you re-emerge into the world feeling your soul has blossomed like the rarest of blue orchids.

“Grandma’s Boy” is not that movie.

Producer Adam Sandler’s is a bold vision of comedy: potent marijuana, bongs, video games, flatulence, breasts, a car-bed, drunkenness, lewd behavior and a kung-fu monkey as a designated driver.

Who else but Sandler would unabashedly resurrect “The CB Radio Joke?” Or the one where stoners roll all their weed into the world’s biggest joint?

Just watching Allen Covert, the protagonist, one gets a sense that he has actually regressed since playing “Greasy Liquor Store Clerk” in the short-lived TV series “Freaks & Geeks.”

David Spade, whose career died when Chris Farley did in 1997, taps into his decade’s deep well of anger to play Shiloh — an uppity vegan waiter. A couple more movies like this, and Spade will be thankful for the real-life experience when he’s filling out an In-and-Out Burger application.

From Joel Moore’s geek-vilifying portrayal of black leather-clad prodigy J.P. to minor roles such as Party Thug and Milk Maid, each artist who brought “Grandma’s Boy” to life embody a precious lesson. Though the message appears to come packaged in garish, simple wrapping, it is all the more satisfying when revealed, like a tiny pink unicorn prancing from a discarded Big Mac wrapper.

The lesson is this: From the pharaohs of most ancient Egypt to the zeppelin-sized ego of Adam Sandler, if one has enough money to surround oneself with sycophantic toadies, one can do anything. No doubt, during the production of “Grandma’s Boy,” the lowliest PAs and caterers and interns shone with delight to be involved with the project. Fame is more intoxicating than the finest wine — or the world’s biggest joint.

A normal person’s alcohol bender may land them a regrettable tattoo in the morning. A celebrity’s (or worse, a once-celebrity’s) lost weekend subjects the unsuspecting moviegoer to 90 minutes of jokes less funny than the death of a treasured family pet. No amount of burning lasers can cleanse us of such a cinematic hangover.

Sandler’s career’s brilliance peaked with the September 1993 release of “They’re All Gonna Laugh at You.” Note to Sandler: We stopped laughing 12 years ago.

Ashley O’Dell reviews movies that aren’t in the theater anymore.