Half-Assed Movie Reviews

August 26, 2009:  Funny People

The faithful Half-Assed Movie Reviews reader bears with me through a lot of “reviews” of crude modern comedies, which has inevitably involved plenty of talk of Judd Apatow and his influence, but I try to keep that discussion brief for the sake of the sanity of the readers.  Every couple of years, though, Apatow actually directs a movie, and then all bets are off for as long as I can keep typing.

Funny People, as the previews proudly proclaim with a manufactured air of exclusivity, is only the third film directed by Judd Apatow.  He has directed episodes of his earlier television shows Freaks and Geeks as well as Undeclared, and he has produced an endless stream of films over the past 5 years or so (Year One, Pineapple Express, Step Brothers, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, Superbad, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy).  This pattern is typical of comedy directors once they gain the Hollywood clout necessary to give long-overdue explosure to the writing, acting and directing talent of their circle of friends and colleagues.  We’ve seen similar behaviour from the likes of John Landis (cut short in the mid-1980s due to tragedy surrounding The Twilight Zone: The Movie), and Ivan Reitman (through the mid-1980s although he stayed bigger in directing and didn’t produce as much).  Outside the comedy genre, Steven Spielberg and Steven Soderbergh also went mad on the producing front after achieving widespread artistic and commercial success directing, proceeding to bring their core groups of colleagues to the forefront.  Compare this approach, for example, with Woody Allen or Clint Eastwood, who direct a lot of movies but mostly only act as producers for their own movies.

Apatow’s earlier feature directorial efforts, Knocked Up in 2007 and The 40-Year-Old Virgin in 2005, are influential for their groundbreaking willingness to show dorky guys as genuinely nice people despite the crap heaped upon them by society, and to let them come out on top for a change.  It’s not nearly so overt as a Revenge of the Nerds style of story, since it doesn’t portray popularity and success as zero-sum game.  Everyone can end up better off, and the dorks have a lot to offer to those who take the time to get to know them.  This could all be dismissed as a fantasy scenario for the regular schlub, and indeed it is, but proudly so and without irony.

One of Apatow’s early producing efforts, The Cable Guy (1996), long preceded most of the above-mentioned films, and speaks to the notion of him being ahead of his time and needing to wait around until the world took notice.  Freaks and Geeks (1999-2000) and Undeclared (2001-2002) are full of the exact type of humour and characters and comedy we’ve come to demand, some even portrayed by the same actors we’ve seen meet with success in the past few years (Seth Rogen, James Franco, Jason Segel, Jay Baruchel), and it was all right out there on network television in front of our eyes a decade ago, but it took the slap in the face of The 40-Year-Old Virgin to bring all of this to serious mainstream attention.

I get the sense that Apatow is blessed with a natural producer’s mentality, along the lines of several other instructive examples.  Lorne Michaels, the longtime Saturday Night Live producer, found himself the boss of his contemporaries at a young age because of his innate business sense along with palpable charisma and unquestioning pursuit of success.  Warren Beatty became a film producer in the 1960s with essentially no experience, but he had the right attitude and people listened to him.  Steven Spielberg was an intense character and certainly not “cool” by any real sense, much less by Hollywood standards, but was clearly destined for power even when he was just starting out.

So now, with Funny People, Judd Apatow takes a significant risk and puts together a film which doesn’t so much aim to be funny on its own, as to peer behind the scenes and figure out what drives the people who aim to be funny.  Adam Sandler, in the lead, plays a character with strong parallels to himself, a former stand-up comic who builds a hugely successful film career based on increasingly ludicrous high-concept conceits.  In a fictional twist, this mega-star finds himself suddenly facing a grave medical prognosis, and begins to reflect on what he gave up along the path of his life, reconsidering what is important.  He has few real friends among the hordes of casual acquaintances, few emotional ties to a string of girlfriends and one night stands, and get no deep satisfaction from playing with the toys money can buy.  He turns in desperation to his roots, and begins making random ad-hoc appearances to perform at comedy clubs.  It is here that he befriends Seth Rogen, playing the archetypal struggling stand-up comic who is questioning whether his career passion (and accompanying years of poverty-stricken rejection) is a realistic dream to even pursue.  Sandler hires Rogen to write jokes for him, and to be his personal assistant, and they seem to grow close, but Sandler is unwilling to let himself open up to – and trust – his new friend.  At the same time, Sandler also tries to reconnect with an old flame, the only woman he ever loved, to win her back despite her husband and two children.  Options are explored, friendships blow up and are rebuilt, and in the end, can a man who hurt people so much during his life manage to regain what he foolishly gave up, in his short remaining time on earth?

Apatow and Sandler are former roommates, and there are clearly autobiographical elements incorporated from both of their lives.  Apatow’s real-life wife Leslie Mann, who has appeared in his previous films, has a meatier role here as the former flame, lending additional layers of complexity to the story and further blurring the line between fiction and reality.

Where this film loses its mainstream appeal, as evidenced by the disappointing box office numbers, is in its realistic and heartbreakingly honest look at the lives of stand-up comedians.  I understand that stand-up comedy is a topic of limited appeal, and the real personalities behind it are even lesser known, but it happens to be an area of great fascination to me.  I loved the depictions of how material is developed, the self-doubt fuelling the open-mic nights, and the emotional roller coaster of being forced to work with the crowd’s fickle reactions and attitude during any given performance, whether you’re an amateur just starting out or a seasoned pro.  I’ve been a long-time fan of stand-up comedy (going back to my youth when I encountered George Carlin, Roseanne Barr, Bill Cosby, Richard Pryor, Drew Carey, and even Gallagher).  I rediscovered it in the late 1990s with the new crop of edgy and crude comics (Patton Oswalt, Robert Schimmel, David Cross, Doug Stanhope, Ron White).  It’s also been tremendously entertaining to see how Comedy Central in the US has made roasts popular again (bringing to cult celebrity status the likes of Jeffrey Ross, Lisa Lampanelli, Nick DiPaolo, and Greg Giraldo).  There is also a massive crop of British comics (Jimmy Carr and Rickey Gervais, to name a couple) bringing their unique flavour to the party.  Funny People explores the difficult choices facing these folks as success strikes suddenly and unexpectedly, and integrity so easily gives way to big paycheques for stupid movies and TV shows, and how truly difficult it is to maintain the respect of the group you sweated and toiled with, while at the same time figuring out how to fit in with the established Hollywood society and maintain success.  How acceptable is it to turn from the friends who supported you emotionally, when the pressure becomes so great to support them financially and/or simply move on?  Scattered cameos by lots of established comedians playing themselves (Paul Reiser, Norm MacDonald, Ray Romano, Dave Attell, Charles Fleischer, Andy Dick, Sarah Silverman) lend weight to the film’s themes by forcing us to consider the incredibly diverse career paths of these very funny people (perhaps I’ll exclude Andy Dick from that last claim), and the choices they must have been faced with along the way in their real lives.  This could almost be a documentary, so plausible is the plight of this composite/variation on Adam Sandler whose life we’re plunged into.

Sure, there are some issues with Funny People, most notably the farcical stuff from the trailers, which is not in keeping at all with the overall tone of the movie but smacks of forced commercialism.  This is clearly a writing misstep and perhaps an ironic consequence of the difficult choices noted above, which even Apatow must continue to balance.  The pacing is also just a bit slow, and I might have cut about 10 minutes from this admittedly long 2 hour and 26 minute film.  Plenty of viewers will hate Funny People because they were expecting Knocked Up, plenty will be disappointed because they were properly expecting a movie about stand-up comedy but were unfortunately thinking that it would be funnier, and plenty will be confused about just exactly what is the point.  I can’t generally recommend Funny People, because it’s simply not a widely appealing film, but I thought it was great.

Emotional and career growth from Apatow.