Adam Sandler: Love You Masterfully Brings All the Laughs and Feels

Few will be surprised to learn the Sandman’s still got it. Yet be warned: the title of his latest special, Adam Sandler: Love You is not a play on words. It is a genuine name, one that simply and perfectly captures the palpable sentimentality the 57-year-old Sandler brings to the stage. In this tight, still-fresh, 70-minute special, Sandler takes on a reflective mode, not merely musing on his own aging as a performer and person, but, by the special’s end, his place in—and appreciation for—the history of comedy. It is, truly, among Sandler’s finest, most moving works to date. 

Whenever I see Sandler these days, I think of something Paul Thomas Anderson said in a 2017 interview. Sandler, he offered in an off-hand way, seemed to be growing more handsome with age. Handsomeness aside (I’ll leave that evaluation to others), I see what he means. Sandler’s face seems to reflect his longtime, still-evolving place in our culture: a certain ease, call it age, wisdom, or even just a sense of comfort in his standing as one of the great American artists of the last three decades. Just whether he thinks this way we cannot know, but I could not get the thought out of my mind as I watched him here. 

Josh Safdie, one half of the duo behind Sandler’s best film performance to date, Uncut Gems (2019), directed the special. Safdie opts to spend most of the camera’s time on Sandler; overindulgent crowd shots aimed to remind us that what we are watching is actually funny, for example, thankfully, remain few. Instead, our attention shifts to how Sandler navigates the tight, minimalistic comedic space, one that seems better suited for a beginner’s magic show than a high-value special. It is as if Sandler asked Safdie and the production team to place him in the most non-star-like conditions possible for comedy. If there is a place that is the opposite of Madison Square Garden, the special’s stage, found at The Nocturne Theatre in Glendale, California is it, and it is beautiful. 

Tonally, Love You is far different from 100% Fresh. In the 2018 special, also for Netflix, the crowds (it is shot across multiple venues) are bigger and louder. Sandler performs on brightly lit stages, beardless, sometimes in a varsity jacket, and with a high energy to match. In Love You, Sandler is quieter, sipping a hot beverage in a hoodie before a single, smaller audience in a cozy, darkly-lit theater that quite literally begins to fall apart during the performance. With just one microphone, a few guitars, a spotlight, and an assist from his reliable accompanist, Dan Bulla, the bearded Sandler entertains with little more than his raw talent. The spectacle is him—and it’s a damn good one. 

The special begins with a scripted scene in which Sandler is accosted by professional autograph hawks. He then makes his way to the stage, politely fielding requests and even Facetiming with a man confined to a hospital bed. It soon becomes evident that this rather cliched opening, one about the burdens of fame, is merely a set up for Sandler to then deconstruct just exactly what it means to be both star and artist. The star exists in the moment, the artist contributes to a tradition. 

To be clear: Sandler deploys his usual comedic persona throughout the special. He sings, shares dirty jokes, and speaks in his patented baby voice. He yells and makes reference to his recurring cast of SNL-veteran pals. But overall, the silliness feels deliberately muted. His relaxed, meditative demeanor makes its way to his comedic and musical cadence, bringing a soothing quality to the performance, no less comfortable than the sweats as he wears. 

All of the special’s stylistic choices, from Sandler’s wardrobe to his punch line deliveries, carry with them a charming simplicity, a kind of effortlessness that makes clear the immense talent of the performer without the in-your-face style of many big A-list comedy productions today. Sure, some of this is most likely calculated. But there is an obvious joy that Sandler brings to the performance and its trappings, from laughing at his own jokes (and himself) to smirking at the farcical elements of the special. It all feels so sincere. 

And then there is the final moment of Love You, when Sandler sings a song in grateful appreciation of the ongoing history of comedy. He name checks Ruth Buzzi, Eddie Murphy, and seemingly every great comic in between. It is an unexpected, but no less surprising tribute from a man who is getting older, and obviously reflecting on both his craft and place in the art form that has so enveloped him for most of his life. The love is real.