By Dan Cohen

I’ll conclude my comments on the indie scene shortly, but right now I want to talk about a movie you might have dismissed, but may be worthy of your attention.

Why are we surprised when popular comedians alter their personae in middle age?  Do we feel betrayed by clowns who show their darker sides?  Everybody from Chaplin to Robin Williams has tried it, with few succeeding. The record shows that comedians often need to take on a series of dramatic roles before their fan base will accept them.

Woody Allen, who has been defying audience expectations for 30 years, had the last and best word on his mixed reception as a dramatist in “Stardust Memories.”  Chancing upon aliens in a remote forest, he asks them what he can best do to ameliorate human suffering. They advise him to “tell funnier jokes.”  But at that point Allen had already made a successful transition from joke writer to respected film artist.  The Oscars and grosses from “Annie Hall” and “Manhattan” earned him the space to stretch, which his audience generally supported.

Jerry Lewis wasn’t as lucky. After a hugely successful multi media career he wrote and directed a tragic drama about a clown in a concentration camp. The movie has yet to see the light of day, probably for good reason.  Lewis did, however, deliver powerful “straight” performances in other people’s TV and film work, most notably Scorcese’s scalding “King of Comedy,” which never found the larger audience it deserved.  (Still another DVD to seek out!)

Lewis  played the eternal 11 year old for decades. How much beyond 50 could he continue mimicking an obsessing pre adolescent without descending into the grotesque?  So it should come as no surprise to find Adam Sandler, at 43, probably the Jerry Lewis of his time, reinventing himself in writer/director Judd Apatow’s ambitious “Funny People.”

Sandler plays George Simmons, a world famous comic/ movie star, (his mirror image,) who wakes up one day with a fatal disease. Single, alone, and lacking the brio to write a new act, he hires a struggling young comic to assist him and goose his waning sense of humor. Also, though it’s understated, to transition him to an endgame.

As they spend more time together—you can hardly call what they have a relationship—you see why the guy is alone.  Simmons says it all when he tells Ira, (ably played by Seth Rogen,) “I don’t have any friends.  You’re my closest friend, and I don’t even like you.”  And he isn’t kidding. With a steady gaze and acid humor the script lays bare his privileged, indulgent life like a dissection in a bio lab. And yet we care about this guy; a triumph for Sandler, who proves himself effortlessly comfortable in his own unadorned skin.

The movie spends a lot of time in the peculiarly combative world of stand up comics.  It’s merciless in showing both male and female of this sub species casually bombing each others egos with relentless insults. Their dialogue is vulgar, dead on accurate, and frequently very funny. Sandler has had the unmitigated nerve to appear side by side with a slew of comics 20 years his junior, and more; the generosity to give them ample time to make their own impressions, which actually makes him and the movie better.

In “The Hangover,” perhaps the summer’s biggest comedy, the R rated jokes relentlessly pound your funny bone. But the story, (three guys wake up from a bout of drugs and alcohol with no recollection of what happened the previous night,) and its attendant humor, carry little weight. The same kind of sex centered humor in Apatows’ script, which has a much closer proximity to the real world. The material has an agenda that goes beyond keeping us busy.  In other words, it’s a movie for adults.

Janusz Kaminsky, who usually works with Spielberg, has lovingly lit and shot the film, adding warmth and texture that anchors place to character. Once again, a clear eye guides us toward the level of truth the script is after.

As a complete work however, “Funny People,” is troubled. At nearly 2 and ½ hours, length is partly to blame. Simmons’ reunion with a former lover, while richly concieved, goes on longer than necessary.  The sequence, coming late in the film, is especially damaging because it slackens the pace just when it needed to move faster.  And while the material is way more daring than the seasons other serious comedy, “500 Days of Summer,” it doesn’t go down as easily.  And finally, the show biz centered setting isn’t for everybody.

Flaws and all, I found “Funny People” engaging, compelling and memorable.

In the interest of “full disclosure,” I spent several years doing stand up comedy and worked the New York Improv more than a few times.  Also, my uncle, George Coe, a character actor of many years, plays a small role in “Funny People,” as Simmons dad.

“Baby Mama,” born of talent from “Saturday Night Live,” and “Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” the latest output from Judd Apatow’s comedy factory, give us the opportunity to reflect on the state of funny in American movies.

First “Baby Mama.” Here’s a sharp and funny premise; infertile executive hires trailer trash to carry her baby. So, two women with nothing in common are forced to share one fertilized egg. Add two proven TV performers, Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, along with a host of top notch supporting talent that includes Steve Martin. Pepper the stew with every plot element from an advanced seminar in screen writing. Top it off with a volley of drop dead jokes. Viola!

It made for a great trailer, but the movie is thin. Scenes flash by in a rush, perform their function and disintegrate. For the most part they exist as set ups for jokes. But when they don’t work, which is frequently, their transparency is almost embarrassing. The chemistry between the leads keeps the movie afloat, but the director, Michael McCullers, never finds and settles on a confident tone.

“Baby Mama” is the work of a first time director, and it shows. The box office, initially good, trailed off. For the studios this one’s a ground rule double. The point is once again made, as it is over and over; there’s a thirst in the market place for adult comedy. It’s just that the film wasn’t strong enough for those adults to entice their peers into seeing it.

A week after “Baby Mama,” “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” arrived. Again, this is the work of a first time director, written and starring supporting players from producer Judd Apatow’s well stocked stable of male nerds. The writer of the screenplay, Scott Segel, doubles as the lead, and he’s an appealing sad sack. But “Sarah Marshall” is deliberately slow, close to slack at times. And most of the physical humor is haphazard and ineptly staged. What’s new is an on screen appearance of Segel’s sex organ and some fairly graphic screwing. Director Nick Stoller’s touch for physical comedy is heavy handed, and yet the film’s amiable candor about relationships keeps it from going completely awry.

Apatow is a shrewd producer. Each of his pictures exploits another aspect of sex, pushing the boundaries of the R rating. “Knocked Up,” “Superbad,” “40 Year Old Virgin”; the titles speak for themselves. “Knocked Up” is probably the smoothest of the bunch; it’s fitfully funny and well cast. And despite the R rating, “Superbad” was last summer’s want to see movie for teenagers.

But “Sarah Marshall,” “Baby Mama” and so many others this Spring, have failed to truly take off at the box office, in spite of their inspired ad campaigns. They open well but then drop off. It took “PS I Love You,” “Over Her Dead Body” and “Fools Gold” big names and saturation advertising just to return mediocre grosses. If a movie costs 30 million to make, 20 million to release, and then does 50 million at the box office (which has to be shared with the cinema owner), it barely recoups half it’s cost. With DVD sales the title may break even, but it by no means supports huge studio overheads. (This is a problem for another column.)

My guess is that most adults, those who aren’t addicted to the movie going habit, find what passes for comedy today boring and take a pass. Teens, who can be satisfied by a hail of jokes and familiar sentimentality, are more easily amused and a better target for the studios. Hence the studios aim their comedies at the post teen crowd and hope everyone else follows.

The most successful romantic comedy this year, “27 Wedding Dresses,” did well, but that starred the indomitable Kathryn Heigl. “Made of Honor,” with TV heart throb Patrick Dempsey, failed. “Fools Gold” and “PS I Love You,” expensive movies that were heavily exploited, received horrible reviews and returned unexceptional grosses.

Two conspicuous box office smashes, “Juno,” and “Little Miss Sunshine,” made for a pittance by studio standards, point to the heart of the matter. Both movies are adult in concept. Both deal squarely with sexuality amid other domestic issues. Both portray middle class American lifestyles without exaggeration or condescension. And both are remarkably steadfast in tone. What I mean by that is that the films characters rarely deviate from their own truth for the sake of a joke or a shock. They deal a straight hand to the audience, much like comedies by Frank Capra, Howard Hawks, Preston Sturges etc. Both “Juno” and “Little Miss Sunshine” were huge popular successes.

Here’s what set them apart from the studio output. The set up and the style are established in the first twenty minutes and then remain within their parameters. Credibility and consistency are honored. Surprises are delivered, they don’t come out of left field; they’re organic. When things resolve you think, yes, that’s the way it should happen, only I wasn’t aware of that while I was watching.

“Juno” is a terrific example. A high school girl with a unique voice introduces us to her problem. She’s pregnant by a sweet, nerdy jock who she more or less seduced. She doesn’t want a baby and she’s not the least bit reluctant about giving hers up for adoption. But she does develop believable relationships with the couple she chooses to raise it. And as she gets to know them credible problems arise. Even better, these problems — and their tentative resolutions — become the film’s most important assets. Other elements are doled out in credible perspective. The humor, in healthy dollops, is character based. The people are grounded in their settings. Nobody sprouts wings for the sake of a joke. The result: 160 million at the box office.

The same held true for “Little Miss Sunshine.” And before that, “Sideways.” Note that all three are lower budget Indies. You can add to that “Napoleon Dynamite.”

It’s a commonplace myth in the film community that romantic comedy has become impossible to pull off in the new millennium. Critics remark that today’s world lacks the sort of obstacles that kept people apart in the 20s, 30s and 40s. The claim is that without economic tension there’s no wedge between the protagonists. But it wasn’t a cash crunch that kept Tracey and Hepburn at odds. It was their different natures. Most of the best screwball comedies were about the very rich, who hardly suffered the constraints of the pocket book.

Close attention to Turner Classics reveals the human heart as the greatest obstacle. The struggle to capture and hold that heart is what audiences have always responded to, and will continue to as long as movies are popular. The problem is that corporate Hollywood has lost the will or skill to seek it out.

An afterthought: The French seem to understand how to create romantic comedy without resorting to the absurd. For proof positive seek out “Happily Ever After” or the recent Audrey Tatou vehicle, “Priceless” on DVD.