Punch Drunk Love
The Adam Sandler movie for people who hate Adam Sandler movies.
You've probably heard that this is not an Adam Sandler movie. Add to
that, you're probably thinking, it's a P.T. Anderson movie, that just
happens to have Adam Sandler in it in a wry casting move by one of
young Hollywood's most promising new directors. Well, if you are
thinking that, you're wrong. This IS an Adam Sandler movie, albeit one
not hindered by former cast members of SNL, not starring a vacuous and
impossibly endowed female lead, and not featuring dialogue retreaded
from every other Sandler film. As the film opens, we're introduced to
Sandler's awkward anti-hero Barry Egan, dressed in a sharp, but
painfully tacky blue suit which probably marks the first time Sandler's
shown up at the beginning of a movie in anything other than a pair of
sweatpants and a sports-themed t-shirt. What looks at first to be a
cast against type turns out in fact to be a ruse. Here, Sandler is
basically a toned down (but amped up) version of his regularly
scheduled misunderstood and maladjusted self. He's scaled back the
over-the-top, loony tune histrionics and refocused that out-of-control
energy into the bursts of violence that punctuate the film's key scenes
that turn the Sandler caricature into a real character. I think that
what I was expecting here was something along the lines of Marlon
Wayans' performance in 'Requiem For A Dream' (something really off the
beaten path for a slapstick comedian). What I got instead was a more
tolerable, believable, and sympathetic version of the odd misanthrope
that Sandler has played in films like 'Happy Gilmore' and 'Big Daddy.'
It's like watching an Adam Sandler film that you don't feel bad about
liking. P.T. Anderson does so much right in this movie, from the bits
of surrealism that pop up in nearly all of Sandler's films (remember
the Penguin and the musical from 'Billy Madison'?), to the
unpredictable shifts in tone from playful to creepy. He's managed to
keep all of the cues that Sandler films are known for, but he's done it
in a way that doesn't insult your intelligence. I kept waiting for the
expository dialogue that would explain why Sandler's character was so
emotionally off-balance, but thankfully it never came. A typical film
with this sort of set-up would spell out in more ways than one the
exact disorder, affliction, conflict, or personal background that the
lead has been through to make him such a shy and goofy introvert with
violent tendencies. But Anderson holds all of that back so that we can
focus on the story at hand, the tenuous relationship between Sandler
and Watson, and we watch to see how the situation will snap. Because of
course it will snap, and it does, with some amazing ferocity. Early
reflective moments in the film are almost completely silent with no
score and no added sound effects, and they nail the sense of isolation
that holds Barry Egan back. In contrast, when he erupts in a restaurant
restroom, smashing it with his fists, the sound is blunt and distorted
like listening to a migraine tearing Barry apart. It's a stunning
effect that finally puts all of the rude violence of Adam Sandler
movies into perspective. The final showdown with a detestable Philip
Seymour Hoffman shows the kind of maturity that the archetypal Sandler
character can hold, when in the right hands. Of course, Adam Sandler
will go on to make more 'Little Nicky's' and Anderson will undoubtedly
move on to bigger and more complicated fare, but for this hour and a
half, it's fun to see the two come together and make it work. Go see
this before it Sandler's next movie, an animated feature where he's
back in the sweatpants and sneakers, changes your mind about his
potential.