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Sandler makes a mark in sloppy Punch-Drunk Love
by Jesse Fox Mayshark
Think of the most prominent actors under 40. Edward Norton comes to mind (Red Dragon notwithstanding). Brad Pitt. Leonardo DiCaprio. Jude Law. Matt Damon. Joaquin Phoenix. Maybe even Knoxville's own Brad Renfro (We're contractually obliged to use the words "Knoxville's own" when referring to local celebrities). The point is, you'd probably go pretty far down that list before you got to Adam Sandler.
Yes, Sandler is by all technical definitions of the term a movie star. His comedies, whether romantic (The Wedding Singer) or scatological (pretty much everything else), have made millions of dollars for him and boatloads more for Hollywood studios. He's even a man of undeniable talent; some of his Saturday Night Live skits were relative high points of the show's lackluster latter years. His Hanukkah carol, with its proud list of famous Jews, is funny and poignant.
But until now, Sandler hasn't shown much interest in stretching himself beyond his trademark smart-ass grin and big Bassett hound eyes, a perennial mischievous kid getting by on his smarmy charm. You can't blame him. He's managed to keep a viable career going longer than most SNL alumni (not coincidentally, he's also avoided any well-publicized substance problems), and as long as the formula's working he doesn't have much incentive to mess with it. Except for that one nagging thing, the thing that always gnaws at clowns and minstrels, no matter their skill or popularity: the desire for artistic respect, a longing for credibility among their peers, a place at the high table.
So with his fortune made, Sandler is at a natural career point to try something different. Like Robin Williams, Tom Hanks, Jim Carrey, and many more before him, he has made his "serious" movie. And who better to make it with than 30-something wunderkind Paul Thomas (a.k.a. "p.t.") Anderson, who briefly revived Burt Reynolds' fortunes in Boogie Nights and gave Tom Cruise the role of his life in Magnolia?
The prospect of a Sandler/Anderson match-up prompted lots of film-geek chatter. Was Anderson nuts? Could Sandler rise to the occasion? As it turns out, Punch-Drunk Love (which won a Best Director award at Cannes) is an entertaining but erratic movie, easily the weakest of Anderson's career. The surprising thing is that it's not Sandler's fault.
As Barry Egan, a lonely eccentric whose life is consumed by his work (selling novelty toilet plungers to resort hotels) and his seven domineering sisters, Sandler gives a likable and multi-dimensional performance. Although he occasionally seems to be channeling Dustin Hoffman's Rain Man, his bursts of nervous laughter and periodic rages all seem to bubble up from some barely contained reservoir of frustration. His temper tantrums—particularly a scene where he trashes a restaurant bathroom—actually make him more sympathetic. Like most of Anderson's damaged protagonists, he doesn't know how to ask or look for the love and understanding he wants.
Enter Lena (Emily Watson), who shows up in the movie's first scene, dropping off a car at the garage next to Barry's office. Since Punch-Drunk Love is, ostensibly, a romantic comedy, it's not hard to figure out that these two will eventually end up together. Unfortunately, Anderson seems to have put more thought into a convoluted and distracting subplot involving a vengeful phone sex operator than into the movie's central couple. Although he gives us an intriguing underdog hero and shows a characteristic grasp of family dynamics in the way Barry relates to his sisters and brothers-in-law, he loses his way in a needlessly frenetic plot.
Anderson has always worked from identifiable models and influences—Scorsese (by way of Tarantino) in Hard Eight and Boogie Nights, Altman in the meandering but magnificent Magnolia. This time, he's drawing on absurdist directors like David Lynch and especially the Coen Brothers. The opening glimpse of Sandler in a ridiculous blue suit arguing the fine points of air-mile coupons with a telemarketer is straight out of Coen country. Unfortunately, the Coens' arch zaniness doesn't play to Anderson's natural strengths—his emotionally literate writing and his deep affection for his characters and his audience. Unique among his cynical Hollywood peers, he has a big heart. But the more he ratchets up the tempo of Punch-Drunk Love, dragging along wacky tropes like a mysterious harmonium and a pile of unopened pudding containers, the more he loses touch with his story.
The movie is usually fun to watch, and Anderson can work a camera and a soundtrack like nobody's business. But it isn't worth much when you realize that Watson's character remains almost a complete enigma all the way through. This is particularly disappointing because Watson is normally an enlivening presence, and she's still looking for her first great comic role. The best romantic comedies work because by the end of the film we understand and like both of the lead characters, and we're rooting for their happiness. It's hard to gin up much more than mild interest in the outcome of Punch-Drunk Love. Maybe it should have been called Slap-Happy Bemusement.
Still, the movie's inventiveness confirms Anderson's talent and willingness to try new things. And his biggest gamble, the casting of Sandler, is a winner. Given Anderson's propensity for using the same actors over and over, maybe he can try again. Now that we know Sandler can act, it'd be nice to see him do it in a great movie. m
(This movie opens Oct. 18.)
October 10, 2002 * Vol. 12, No. 41
© 2000 Metro Pulse
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