Adam Sandler Gets His Due

Adam Sandler (and his jowls) get props, along with an explanation as to how he manages to get cast in serious movies in the first place:

To understand better why Anderson turned to Sandler (not to mention the other prince-toads in his repertory group), it might be a good time to examine the sore lack of average-looking leading men in Hollywood. A short list of A-list celebrities, the kind that can open and anchor a movie, might include Tom Cruise, Denzel Washington, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Jude Law, Johnny Depp, Colin Farrell and Tom Hanks. And yet, how many of them could you imagine in your supermarket, buying tampons for his wife? How many of them have toe jam and pot bellies? How many of them even have chest hair? Only Hanks has maintained an aura of everyman. (And who has the most Oscar nominations? These things are not necessarily unrelated.)

Hollywood has always prostrated itself at the altar of beauty, but this is getting ridiculous. Even doofy Nicolas Cage has, over the last decade, been reanimated by personal trainers and Atkins. His performance in Leaving Las Vegas was an unforgettable portrayal of conventional life set aflame, but now he doesn't seem conventional at all. Honestly, he seems a little un-human.

So if you're a filmmaker these days, looking to share authentic truths about real human experience, you probably want to avoid the marquee list. If you're Wes Anderson or Sofia Coppola, you might approach Bill Murray. And if you're Paul Thomas Anderson (or James L. Brooks), you might approach Adam Sandler. Like Murray, Sandler has a knack for light moments tinged with sadness, as if all that bratty sarcasm has been stripped away by years of disappointment and regret.

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