Funny People, the latest film by writer/director Judd Apatow (Knocked Up, The 40-Year-Old Virgin) has been advertised as being a comedy, when in fact it is more of a dramedy, which happens to contain many moments of true hilarity. It is Apatow’s most mature film to date (this in spite of the director’s need to talk about penises every 2.5 minutes in each of his films), and certainly the most mature work Sandler (Big Daddy, You Don’t Mess With The Zohan) has ever done in his life. While it’s not proof that either man will ever truly grow up, it’s a testament to the fact that both are maturing in their approach to the material they work on.
Sandler plays George Simmons, an amazingly successful former standup comedian-turned-actor, who has sold out his principles for a big mansion and a hefty cut of his movies’ box office grosses. He’s still good to his fans though, stopping to pose for pictures and crack jokes in order to make sure they crack a smile. However when George gets some tests back from his doctor, stating that he has an extremely rare blood disease and his chances are grim bordering on hopeless, he begins the slow path through self-absorbed grief to introspection and ultimately makes an earnest attempt to right the wrongs of his life.
At a comedy club one night, George happens to cross paths with Ira Wright (Seth Rogen, who also served as an executive producer on the film), a barely funny funnyman whose own friends at work and his roommates at home continually tell him how unamusing he is. Perhaps it’s the fact that Ira’s giving his all that one night, or George is too lost in his own self-pity to notice fully, but some of Ira’s material strikes a chord with him as having promise, and George hires Ira to write jokes for him. (more…)
First things first. My friend Sam and I were just looking for a little mindless diversion on that November Sunday – privileged with the rare use of an automobile and searching the Chicago Tribune’s weekend section for someplace to drive it. When we saw the listing, buried in minuscule type, it seemed too good to be true – a concert at the Rosemont Horizon featuring the reunited Monkees, the pretty dude from Herman’s Hermits, and a couple other ’60s has-beens, and tickets were only $10! The 5 p.m. start time seemed a bit suspicious – did the Monkees need to play Early-Bird Specials for their geezer fans? – but nonetheless we piled into Sam’s borrowed lime-green Oldsmobile and headed west.
Now, I grew up in a small town in the South – the type where bitter people (mostly Protestants) cling to their guns and religion. So while I grew up a heathen, at least relatively speaking (my family were Unitarians, and we only occasionally practiced that), until I went to college in the Big City I had little experience with the phenomenon known as the Lapsed Catholic. I quickly learned, however, that the Formerly Faithful can be divided into two groups: those who are merely dismissive of the dogmas of their youths, and those who are downright angry. Sam was the angry type … so much so that his back would stiffen at the first mention of religion, and the slightest disagreement over the merits of belief would send him into an apoplexy of cursing and red-faced denunciation. (This trait somehow never completely ruined his friendship with his roommate, who shortly after graduation decided to enter the priesthood. Swear to God.) 
The Duchess (2008, Paramount)
Before we begin, allow me to state for the record that I hate remakes. With very rare exceptions, they tend to be lifeless, pale imitations of the classics which came before them.
