Funny People

When Judd Apatow was a precocious, nerdy teenager, he recorded interviews a number of comedy legends, including Steve Martin, in a search to discover just what it takes to be a comedian. All of that dorky effort has gone to good use, as Apatow's third directorial effort stands as the most thoroughgoing exploration of the comedy mindset put to film. Now, considering that the competition for that title are Punchline and, um, Punchline, that may seem like faint praise, but the degree to which Funny People devotes itself to a close, textured portrayal of the comedy life, from struggling stand-ups to established superstars, is singular. Also singular, Funny People's stubborn failure to adhere to any predictable genre. It's not a romantic comedy, it's not a sex comedy, in fact, it's not really a comedy at all. There are plenty of genuinely funny parts, but most of those are filmed bits of the various characters stand-up. The meat of the film is a sobering assessment of the comedic psyche, with Apatow coming to the conclusion that the bitterness and narcissism that fuel comic genius make it impossible for comedians to ever really be happy with themselves or other people.

The story concerns Adam Sandler, playing a slightly more artistically bankrupt, lonely version of himself, comedy movie star George Simmons and his fight with a life threatening illness. Faced with his own mortality, and the hollowness of his hedonistic celebrity existence, Simmons goes back to his stand-up roots and enlists struggling comedian Seth Rogen as his assistant/joke writer/best friend. Apatow definitely stuffs the film with subplots and extraneous characters and keeps a razor-sharp focus on well-observed details that reveal the crushing depth of Simmons' isolation, as well as the double-edged nature of his comic gift. For guys like Simmons, comedy serves as the ultimate coping mechanism, but the hostility that underlies his humor keeps other people at an agonizing remove. The mood of angst and loss is sustained by a surprisingly expressive soundtrack that eschews cliche and a uniquely effective use of the hoary old character-revealing montage.

In a plot development telegraphed in the trailers, Simmons discovers that his disease is in remission, and decided that the only way to fill the hole at the center of his life is to reunite with his first, lost love, Leslie Mann, even if it means prying her and her two kids away from husband Eric Bana. The last act of the movie is a foray to Mann's Marin County home, and while it's a hit-and-miss segment that blunts some of the film's momentum, it earns points for defying audience expectations.

While all of this is well-shot and insightful, it's not especially funny, but if a viewer goes into Funny People with an eye towards appreciating the sort of filmic traits that comedies generally ignore in a desperate struggle for laughs, there are rewards aplenty to be had. Like other Judd Apatow movies, Funny People is rambling, messy, overstuffed and paced like an Andrei Tarkovsky film, but unlike previous efforts, the stabs at meaning aren't sacrificed in the pursuit of jokery. Instead, the movie plays like a deft character study, with occasional jokes sprinkled throughout like cinematic bon bons.