Reign Over Me

He sits and laughs loudly as inconsequential chaos unfolds on the film screen. His eyes crave for the predictable patters of loud video games he plays on his apartment’s plasma screen. And when he isn’t banging drums in a band, he’s wearing headphones while gliding on a Segway down empty city streets. Judging by the above description, this man sounds like your average social hermit, hiding in a shell of distraction to offset the misery of loneliness. Yet this particular man, as played by Adam Sandler in the new drama Reign Over Me, is attempting to fill a particularly tragic void in his life, and it’s his journey that makes up the heart and soul of the entire film. If the film had focused primarily on this man’s story, it may have been a great film. As it stands, it’s merely a good one, and a mighty problematic one at that.

Sandler is Charlie Fineman, a widower who lost his wife and daughters on 9/11. They boarded one of the planes that smashed into the World Trade Center. Since then, Fineman has receded into a childish passive-aggressive state that is typical of most Sandler characters. The difference with Fineman is that his emotional problems have left him somewhat deranged. This is when a face from the past re-enters his life, in the form of ex-college roommate Alan Johnson—played by the reliably superb Don Cheadle. If Fineman suffers from a lack of women in his life, then Johnson—a busy dentist and family man—suffers from an overabundance of them. He has an icily demanding wife—the woefully undeveloped Jada Pinkett Smith—a flirtatious patient—Saffron Burrows—and a socially aloof receptionist—Paula Newsome, delivering the same hilarious performance she gave as the insensitive bereavement liaison in Little Miss Sunshine. All Fineman and Johnson need is to rekindle their manly friendship…or do they?

This is where writer/director Mike Binder’s film begins to derail. One moment the two old friends will be sharing a laugh, the next Fineman will be throwing Johnson against a wall, while shattering anything in sight. The script wants the audience to believe that Johnson is in such need of friendship that he’s willing to overlook Fineman’s mental instability, a fact that stretches credibility to its breaking point. There are also numerous muddled subplots and themes that further confuse matters. After attempting to seduce the married Cheadle, Burrows suddenly develops a conscience, and is positioned by the film as an ideal match for Sandler. Such inexplicable transformations are commonplace in Reign Over Me, which shifts between comedy and drama like a trucker shifting between “drive” and “reverse.” It all makes for a rather jarring experience.

And yet the film is somehow saved by the sheer strength of Sandler’s work. After proving himself capable of dramatic depth in Paul Thomas Anderson’s brilliant Punch-Drunk Love, Sandler seems to have been working toward this performance for much of his career. The film places his familiar persona within the confines of a realistic world, and allows him to expose the inner rage and sorrow that has always been hidden within. There is a prolonged scene late in the film where the camera simply rests on Sandler’s face, as he finally recalls the memories that haunted him for years. As he speaks of when he saw the plane hit the tower, and how he at that moment felt his family burning, Sandler brings a human face not only to every life lost on 9/11, but to every survivor who lost a loved one on that fateful day. It’s one of the most heartbreaking pieces of cinematic acting so far this year.

Unfortunately, it’s a flawless performance in a deeply flawed film, though it certainly elevates Reign Over Me from the disaster it could’ve been. There’s also some nice supporting turns from Donald Sutherland, Melinda Dillon, Liv Tyler and even The Office’s B.J. Novak. It’s a pity that Binder, as he did in his vastly superior The Upside of Anger, gives himself an utterly pointless role that’s an instant distraction whenever he’s onscreen. It’s a prime example of the careless clumsiness that reigns over this entire mess of a film. Yet what continues to resonate long after the end credits roll is not only Sandler himself, but the true power of his character’s tragic journey.

There’s something rather ingenious about Fineman attending a theatrical marathon on Mel Brooks films, which seem to have always provided a mindlessly amusing refuge for even the loneliest among us. As a scene from Young Frankenstein unfolds on the screen, in which Marty Feldman disguises himself as a disembodied head before singing, “Ain’t got no body and no body cares about me,” Fineman laughs louder than ever. The scene has poked fun at the pain of isolation, and his laugh is an act of rebellion against the silence closing in upon him. Yet once he fills the silence by speaking about his pain, then he has broken from his shell, and made his first step toward re-entering the world. His story is a rewarding movie-going experience in itself, and sorely deserved to reign over the missed opportunity that is Reign Over Me.

Rating: *** (out of *****)