Welcome back to The Deep Dive. Today, we are
focusing our lens on a figure who represents
perhaps the single most confusing data set in
modern Hollywood history. That's a good way to
put it. A confusing data set. You know him. You
almost certainly have an impression of him. He's
the guy, you know, yelling at the golf ball.
Right. Go to your home. He is the guy walking
out of a five -star hotel in basketball shorts
that look like they were sized for, I don't know,
a giant? Is a very specific. very loud aesthetic
it is we are talking about adam sandler but here's
the mission for this deep dive we're not just
going to quote lines from billy madison although
we probably will we probably will but we're here
to unpack a genuine paradox we're looking at
a man who has generated over two billion dollars
in global box office revenue yet simultaneously
holds the record for some of the most uh It's
a fascinating disconnect. I mean, if you look
at the raw data, and we have a massive stack
of sources here, everything from box office receipts
to decades of film criticism and financial disclosures,
you see two completely different stories. Two
completely separate careers, almost. Exactly.
In one story, he's a hack, a symbol of the death
of cinema, you know. But in the other story,
he is a savvy business mogul. maybe most surprisingly,
a critical darling of the high art crowd. That's
the part that always trips me up, the duality.
On one hand, you have the Golden Raspberry Awards,
the Razzies. Oh, yeah. They literally have a
category that feels like it was invented just
for him. He's been nominated for worst actor
nearly a dozen times. He actually set a record
in 2012 with Jack and Jill, winning worst actor
and worst actress in the same year. Which is
objectively hilarious. I mean, that's a kind
of achievement in itself. It really is. But then
you fast forward to 2023. He's standing at the
Kennedy Center receiving the Mark Twain Prize
for American humor. The highest honor. I mean,
that's the Nobel Prize of comedy. He is standing
where Richard Pryor stood, where George Carlin
stood. How does that happen? And that is the
hook of this entire deep dive. How does one man
straddle that canyon? How can you be the antithesis
of Judd Apatow, as one critic called him, implying
he's anti -art? Wow. And yet be the muse for
Paul Thomas Anderson, one of the greatest living
filmmakers. Who is like the definition of high
art cinema. Totally. Anderson has gone on record
saying he has an obsession level love for Sandler's
work. It feels impossible. It's like finding
out that a three star Michelin chef's favorite
meal is a gas station hot dog. Right. But maybe
that's on us. Maybe we've been looking at Sandler
wrong this whole time. That is exactly my read
on the sources. We tend to view Sandler as this
lucky glass clown who just, you know, stumbled
into a fortune. Yeah, that he was just goofing
around and fell backwards into half a billion
dollars. But when you dig into the biography
and the business moves, you find a highly trained,
incredibly calculated operator. Okay, let's start
with that training. Because the origin story
isn't just funny kid from Brooklyn. No, it's
much more academic than people realize. Adam
Sandler was born in Brooklyn in 1966, but his
family moved to Manchester, New Hampshire when
he was six. So he's got those deep New England
suburban roots. For sure. His father, Stanley,
was an electrical engineer. His mother, Judy,
was a nursery school teacher. Very standard,
supportive upbringing from what all the biographical
data says. But the spark, the comedy thing, that
came pretty early. It did. At age 17, his brother
urged him to get on stage at a comedy club in
Boston. Just pushed him up there. Pretty much.
And he found he liked it. That he had a knack
for it. But the pivotal moment comes when he
decides to pursue it professionally. He didn't
just hit the open mics and hope for the best.
Right. This is where it gets serious. No, he
went to school. And not just any school. He applied
to and was accepted into the Tisch School of
the Arts at New York University. We need to pause
and underscore that. Because that is, that's
not what you'd expect. Tisch is serious business.
It is the Ivy League of acting. It is method
acting. It's Stanislavski. It's Chekhov. I mean,
when you go to Tisch, you are learning how to
strip yourself down emotionally, how to use your
physical instrument to convey truth. It's not
a joke factory. And he graduated. Right. He has
a degree. Graduated in 1988 with a Bachelor of
Fine Arts. OK, let me get this straight. When
we see him in Billy Madison making gibberish
noises or doing that weird baby voice. Yeah.
That isn't just a guy goofing off. That is a
choice made by a technically trained BFA -holding
actor. Exactly. It recontextualizes everything.
It means he understands the rules of performance
well enough to break them for comedic effect.
It's not an accident. It's a deliberate choice.
Yeah. And he was working hard right out of the
gate. While he was at NYU, he landed a recurring
role as Smitty on The Cosby Show. Smitty. I remember
him. He was Theo Huxtable's friend. Right. And
he played it straight. He was learning the rhythm
of a multi -camera sitcom. He was on the set
of the biggest show in the world, just absorbing
it all. He was also on that MTV game show, right?
Remote Control. The stud boy, yeah. Yeah. He
was getting his reps in, doing anything and everything.
But the big break, the moment that actually changed
the trajectory of American comedy, happened in
a comedy club in Los Angeles. This is the Dennis
Miller connection. Tell us about that. Okay,
so Dennis Miller was the anchor of Weekend Update
on Saturday Night Live at the time. A huge deal.
He just happened to catch Sandler's stand -up
set. And what was Sandler's act like back then?
Well, you have to remember, late 80s comedy was
very observational. It was Jerry Seinfeld. It
was what's the deal with airline food? Right.
The set up punchline structure. Sandler wasn't
doing that at all. He was doing the guitar. He
was doing characters. He was manic. He was musical.
He was weird. It was a totally different energy.
So Miller sees this raw talent. He sees this
raw energy. and immediately called Lorne Michaels.
And the sources say he didn't just say, hey,
check this kid out. He vouched for him. He put
his own reputation on the line. And getting a
recommendation from the Weekend Update anchor
to the creator of the show, that's the golden
ticket. It gets you in the room. Sandler was
hired as a writer in 1990. A writer, not a performer.
Not initially. He had to earn his way onto the
screen by writing sketches that made people laugh
in the read -through. He had to prove his value
in the writer's room first. And that era of SNL,
the early 90s, it's legendary now. The bad boys
of SNL. It was a very specific cultural moment.
You had Sandler, Chris Farley, David Spade, Chris
Rock, Rob Schneider. They created a vibe that
was less about... polished political satire and
more about the chaotic energy of a college dorm
room. And it really connected with a younger
audience. Absolutely. But Sandler's specific
contribution wasn't really sketches, was it?
He found his own lane. It was the update desk.
That was his stroke of genius. He realized he
wasn't going to beat Phil Hartman at impressions.
He wasn't going to beat Mike Myers at complex
character work. So he brought his stand -up act
to the desk. He brought the guitar. And the songs,
the Thanksgiving song, the Chinooka song. The
Chinooka song is honestly a masterpiece of efficiency.
It really is. I mean, think about it. Before
that song, Jewish kids in December had zero representation
in popular culture. It was all Christmas carols
all the time. None. And Sandler comes on national
television and just starts listing famous Jews
in a simple, funny rhyme scheme. Paul Newman's
half Jewish. Goldie Hawn is, too. It was identity
politics wrapped in a nursery rhyme. It was so
simple and brilliant. It made him a star because
it felt personal and authentic. But despite the
popularity, and they were very popular. Oh, massively.
The suits at NBC weren't laughing. No. This is
where the business reality clashes with the creative.
The ratings for the show were fluctuating, the
budget was high, but more importantly, the executives
felt the show had become... Unprofessional. Unprofessional.
They thought the bad boys were too lowbrow. They
didn't get the humor. There was this perception
that they were just goofing off and breaking
character all the time. Which, to be fair, they
were. They were, but that was part of the charm.
The audience loved it. The execs didn't. So in
1995, we get the incident that defines his career.
The firing. The purge. NBC fired Adam Sandler
and Chris Farley. It is still mind -blowing to
me. You fire your two biggest breakout stars.
In hindsight, it looks like financial suicide
for the network. It does now. But at the time,
they wanted a clean slate. They wanted to professionalize
the show again. And Sandler has talked about
this moment, right? He didn't quit. Oh, no. He's
been very clear about this, especially in interviews
with Conan O 'Brien. He didn't walk out in protest.
His agent called him and said. They don't want
you back. Imagine the psychology of that. Yeah.
You were in your mid -20s, you were one of the
most famous comedians in the country, and you
just got kicked out of the clubhouse. That has
to create a massive chip on your shoulder. A
boulder. And that chip became his fuel. He later
said that getting fired was the best thing that
could have happened to him because it removed
the safety net. He couldn't just stay on TV forever.
He had to become a movie star. And he had to
do it his way to prove them wrong. He had to
prove them wrong. And you see that drive in what
happens next. When he finally returned to host
SNL in 2019, he did a whole song about it in
his monologue. Oh, I remember that. I was fired.
I was fired. He completely owned it. And then
at the end, he did this incredibly moving tribute
to Chris Farley. You can see how much that whole
experience shaped him. And boy, did he prove
them wrong. This kicks off the golden era. From
1995 to 1998, the output is just staggering.
It's an incredible run. Billy Madison comes out
in 95, almost immediately after he gets fired.
Then Happy Gilmore in 96. The Wedding Singer
in 98. The Waterboy also in 98. It's just hit
after hit after hit. And these are the films
that defined a generation. And they established
the Sandler archetype that we need to unpack.
The Man Child. Yes. But it's specific, right?
It's not just an immature guy. No, it's very
specific. In Billy Madison, he is literally repeating
grade school. In The Waterboy, he lives with
his mama and talks like a toddler. In Happy Gilmore,
he acts like a petulant teenager who can't control
his temper. But the key ingredient isn't just
the immaturity. It's the rage. The screaming,
yes. The repressed rage. The comedy in these
films almost always comes from the tension between
his sweet, innocent, almost childlike demeanor.
And these sudden, violent, volcanic explosions
of anger. It's cathartic. Why did that resonate
so much in the late 90s? What was going on in
the culture? I think it tapped into a very specific
male anxiety of that era. You had a generation
of guys, you know, Gen X guys, who felt... A
bit stunted, a bit awkward, maybe a bit angry
at the world for reasons they couldn't articulate.
And Sandler gave that feeling a voice, a very
loud, screaming voice. He made it funny. He made
the loser the hero who could, you know, beat
up the smarmy villain. Or Bob Barker. Or Bob
Barker. And financially, it worked beyond anyone's
wildest dreams. The Waterboy is the key statistic
here again. Yeah, that one really changed the
game. The Waterboy changed everything. It was
released in 1998. It was a weird movie, a football
comedy. where he talks with a lisp and tackles
people with high -quality H2O. Critics absolutely
despised it. I remember the reviews. They were
brutal. Just shredded him. But it opened to massive
numbers. It grossed nearly $190 million globally
on a $23 million budget. That is Marvel -level
profit margins. It made him a truly bankable
star. It meant that he could open a movie on
his name alone, regardless of the premise, regardless
of the reviews. The audience had chosen. The
audience had chosen. In fact, he actually had
to drop out of a dark comedy called Very Bad
Things because the Waterboy got so big he needed
to manage the fallout and the fame. He was officially
A -list. So he has the leverage, he has the money,
and this is where he builds the empire. Happy
Madison Productions. Founded in 1999. Named after
the two movies that started it all. Happy Gilmore
and Billy Madison. A great logo, too. That picture
of his dad. It is. And he set up on the Sony
Columbia lot in Culver City. And this is where
the controversy, or at least the critical backlash,
usually starts. The nepotism argument. The idea
that Happy Madison is just a scheme to pay his
friends to go on vacation. And if you look at
the filmography grown -ups, just go with it.
Blended. They're often set in resorts. Hawaii,
Africa, Italy. You're not wrong. And he casts
David Spade, Rob Schneider, Kevin James, Chris
Rock, the same crew. Critics look at this and
say, this is lazy. This is a scam. These are
just whole movies. But is it? Or is it genius?
Well, from a labor and business perspective,
it is brilliant. Explain that. In Hollywood,
most people are gig workers. You finish a movie,
you are unemployed. You're always looking for
the next job. Sandler created a... A repertory
company. A stable. A stable. If you are a writer,
a camera operator, a set designer, or an actor
in a circle, you have job security. You have
a pension. You have steady work. It's like he
created a union for his friends. Exactly. And
that breeds immense loyalty. He keeps the same
crew for decades. That means productions are
incredibly efficient because everyone knows the
shorthand. There is no ego on set because everyone
is part of the tribe. So he prioritized loyalty
over critical acclaim. He prioritized autonomy
by keeping it in the family. He didn't have to
listen to studio notes. He didn't have to audition
new people. He could make the movies he wanted
to make with the people he wanted to make them
with. And get paid a fortune to do it. Yeah,
and get paid a fortune. But just as we had him
boxed in as the lazy comedy guy, the guy making
vacation movies, he does the thing that breaks
the model, the pivot. 2002, Punch Drunk Love.
This is the moment where the Tisch graduate reemerges
from the swamp of fart jokes. It's the glitch
in the matrix. Paul Thomas Anderson, who had
just made Magnolia and Boogie Nights, two of
the most critically acclaimed films of the era.
Yeah, he was the new Scorsese. He approaches
Sandler. Now, usually serious directors avoid
comic actors unless they want them to play the
comic relief. Anderson wanted Sandler to be the
romantic lead in a dark, strange, arthouse film.
Why? What did Anderson see that other people
were missing? He saw the anger. Anderson has
said in interviews that he loved Big Daddy. Big
Daddy. Yes. He said he would watch it over and
over. He saw that beneath the jokes, there was
a palpable sense of loneliness and rage in Sandler's
eyes. He wrote the character of Barry Egan specifically
for Sandler. Barry Egan is such a fascinating
character. He wears that one blue suit the whole
movie. He collects pudding cups for airline miles.
And he has these terrifying, unpredictable outbursts.
There is that scene where his sister is nagging
him on the phone, and he just silently, efficiently
shatters the sliding glass door with a hammer.
It's not funny. It's scary. It's real. It's taking
that man -child -with -rage persona from his
comedies and stripping all the humor away, leaving
only the pathology. And Sandler was terrified
to take the role. He was. The story goes that
he told Anderson, I can't do this. I saw Magnolia.
You're too good for me. He had imposter syndrome.
He was afraid he couldn't measure up. But Anderson
saw something. Anderson convinced him that he
didn't need to act in the traditional sense.
He just needed to be a stripped down, vulnerable
version of himself. He saw the potential that
was always there. The result was undeniable.
Even Roger Ebert, who famously hated Sandler's
comedies, I think he called one of them an act
of vandalism against cinema. He really did. He
completely flipped. Ebert's review of Punch Drunk
Love is essential reading for anyone trying to
understand Sandler. He argued that the film deconstructed
the Sandler persona. What did he mean by that?
He said that Sandler had been wasted in bad scripts
his whole career and that this film revealed
that the man -child was actually a tragic figure.
He called it the key to all Adam Sandler films.
Wow. He saw that Barry Egan was just Billy Madison
without the jokes. A love -starved, lonely man
with deep -seated anger issues. It earned him
a Golden Globe nomination. It proved he had the
chops. But then... He didn't stay there. He didn't
become a serious actor full -time. No, and that
is what confuses people. He went right back to
making Mr. Deeds and Click. He treated the art
film like a side project, like a one -off. But
he kept divvying back in. It wasn't just a fluke.
Not at all. In 2007, he does Reign Over Me, where
he played a man who lost his entire family in
9 -11. That was a heavy, heavy role. Just pure
grief. And he was incredible in it. Then the
Meyerowitz stories in 2017 with Noah Baumbach.
Another indie darling director. Exactly. It premiered
at Cannes. Critics there were saying with no
shtick to fall back on, Sandler is forced to
act and it's a glorious thing to watch. And then
the big one. The one that felt like a culmination
of all of this. The heart attack in movie form.
Uncut Gems in 2019. Oh man. Directed by the Sasty
brothers, this movie is a stress test. It's two
hours of pure anxiety. Sandler plays Howard Ratner,
a jeweler in the Diamond District who is a gambling
addict, and he is just making one bad decision
after another. It is the most anxious I have
ever been in a movie theater. My shoulders were
up by my ears the entire time. The Safdie brothers
did something brilliant. They took Sandler's
natural charisma, that fast -talking, likable
salesman energy, and they weaponized it. They
made it frantic and desperate. You root for Howard
even though he is an absolute train wreck. You
can't help it. And it's widely considered his
career best performance. The critical acclaim
was universal. He won the Independent Spirit
Award for Best Male Lead. He did, and he was
famously snubbed by the Oscars, which actually
created a huge wave of sympathy for him. People
were outraged. It solidified his status as a
great actor who chooses not to act. It gave him
this artistic credibility that money can't buy.
It proved that Punch Drunk Love wasn't a fluke.
The talent was always there, waiting for the
right director to pull it out. And speaking of
money, let's pivot to the business side again,
because around 2014, the industry changed and
Sandler was the canary in the coal mine. This
is the Netflix era. And to understand this, you
have to look at the landscape in 2014. Streaming
was still kind of finding its footing with original
movies. The prestige was still in the movie theater.
Right. If you're a big star, you wanted the red
carpet premiere. You wanted the box office opening
weekend numbers. That was the metric of success.
But Sandler's box office was starting to soften
a little bit. It was. Movies like That's My Boy
and Blended weren't the massive hits his earlier
films were. But Sandler looked at the other data.
He saw that while his box office was softening,
his DVD sales and his cable rerun numbers were
astronomical. People loved watching it at home.
Exactly. He realized his audience was aging.
The frat guys who loved Billy Madison were now
dads in their 30s and 40s. They're tired. They're
tired. They didn't want to hire a babysitter
and pay 20 bucks for popcorn. They wanted to
sit on the couch and watch The Sandman. So he
saw where the puck was going. He got there first.
In 2014, he signed a four -movie deal with Netflix.
A massive deal. And this was a huge gamble for
Netflix at the time. It was a huge gamble. And
the first movie out of the gate was The Ridiculous
Six. Oh, boy. The ridiculous. A Western spoof.
And we had to be honest here. Critically, it
was a disaster. Disaster is putting it mildly.
It has a zero percent on Rotten Tomatoes. Zero.
Not one positive review. Critics called it unwatchable.
They accused it of being racially insensitive.
The narrative from the media was Sandler is washed
up. This Netflix thing is a failure. But then
the data came out. And this is the Sandler paradox
in its purest form. Netflix, who are usually
very secretive with their numbers, released a
statement. What did it say? They said that in
its first 30 days, The Ridiculous Six was viewed
more times than any other movie in the history
of the platform up to that point. That is mind
blowing. The critics said, don't watch this.
And the entire world said, hold my beer. We are
watching it immediately. It proved to Netflix
and to the whole industry that Sandler is completely
critic proof. His fans do not read reviews. They
are loyal to the brand, not to the Rotten Tomatoes
score. So Netflix doubled down? Oh, they went
all in. They realized they had a captive audience.
They renewed the deal in 2020 for four more movies.
And the money involved here is just staggering.
The 2020 deal was reportedly worth up to $275
million. $275 million for four movies. That is
guaranteed cash. That is the key shift. In the
old theatrical model, you often get paid based
on how well the movie does back end points. Right.
If it's a hit, you get rich. If it's a bomb,
you don't. With Netflix, he gets paid up front.
It completely removes the risk. It made him the
highest paid actor in Hollywood in 2023, earning
$73 million in a single year. So he shifted the
entire industry model from high risk box office
to high reward subscription retention for a streaming
service. He essentially became his own studio
system inside of Netflix. And he's using it to
do everything. Murder Mystery with Jennifer Aniston
was a massive global hit. Hubie Halloween was
a huge hit. And he also used the Netflix deal
to make Hustle. Exactly. A serious sports drama
that got him a Screen Actors Guild Award nomination.
So he gets to make his broad comedies and his
prestige dramas all under the same roof with
no financial risk. It's an unbelievable setup.
He's having his cake and eating it, too. He bought
the whole bakery. Let's talk about the man behind
the brand. Because for a guy worth nearly half
a billion dollars, he sure doesn't dress like
it. The scumbro aesthetic. Or as some call it,
the grocery run look. It is iconic at this point.
The XXXL t -shirts from like a random charity
5K he did in 1998. The basketball shorts that
go down to his shins. The Ugg boots. The weirdly
high socks. It's funny because for years the
tabloids mocked him. Look at Adam Sandler. He
looks like he lost his luggage. But something
shifted. Something shifted. In 2021, Vogue magazine,
the Bible of high fashion, named him a style
icon. We have truly entered the Twilight Zone
when Adam Sandler is a Vogue icon. But it makes
sense in the context of Gen Z. There is this
trend called normcore. It's about rejecting the
polished, curated, perfect look of Instagram
influencers. And Sandler is the king of uncurated.
He represents comfort. He represents authenticity.
His clothes say, I am so rich and so comfortable
with myself that I do not need to impress you.
It's a power move. It really is. He told Esquire
in an interview that he was working that angle
for years. He joked for a while, I was like,
please accept me and the way I dress. And 30
years later, they finally came around. He outlasted
fashion itself. He did. There are now brands,
like one called Old Jewish Men, that literally
sell shorts inspired by his look. That's incredible.
And it ties into his other obsession. He's a
legitimate hoop head. The stories are legendary.
He's on tour for stand up or filming a movie
in some random town. And he just shows up at
a local YMCA or a park looking for a pickup game.
And he plays in the outfit. He plays in the baggy
shorts and the oversized polo shirt. There are
hundreds of videos online of him just draining
threes in a random gym. Is he actually any good?
Or do people just, you know, let him win because
he's Adam Sandler? No, the scouting report is
solid. He's a playmaker. He's known for creative,
no -look passing. He's not going to dunk on you,
but he understands the geometry of the game.
He plays hard, too. Oh, yeah. He has broken his
ankle. He's had shoulder surgery from basketball
injuries. This is not a casual hobby. I love
that image. You go to the gym to get a run in,
and Adam Sandler throws you a no -look pass.
It's so... Un -Hollywood. It grounds him. It
keeps him connected to that regular guy persona.
If he was playing polo or yachting, the brand
wouldn't work. But pickup basketball? That's
accessible. That's relatable. Speaking of grounding,
his family seems to be the absolute center of
his universe. Absolutely. He has been married
to Jackie Titone since 2003. She converted to
Judaism when they married. They have two daughters,
Sadie and Sunny. And if you've watched his recent
movies, you know them very well. They are the
stars now. His recent Netflix movie, You Are
So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah, was basically
a Sandler home movie with a Netflix budget. His
daughters played the leads. His wife was in it.
He played the supporting dad role. And of course,
the critics screamed, nepotism, baby. They did.
But again, does Sandler care? His brand is loyalty.
His brand is family. Why wouldn't he put his
kids in the movie? It fits the ethos of Happy
Madison perfectly. He's not just employing his
friends anymore. He's employing his whole family.
Even his nephew, Jared, gets roles. Everyone
gets a part. It's the family business. One thing
he keeps strictly out of the movies and really
out of his public life is politics. This is a
very deliberate and I think very smart choice
from a business perspective. He's pretty private
about it. Very. But the public records show he
is a registered Republican, which is somewhat
rare in the Hollywood ecosystem. He performed
at the Republican National Convention in 2004
and donated to Rudy Giuliani's presidential campaign
in 2008. But you never hear him on a soapbox.
He's not on Twitter arguing with people. Never.
In an era where every celebrity feels the need
to weigh in on every single issue. Sandler is
a ghost. He doesn't preach. He doesn't alienate.
He knows who his audience is. He knows his audience
is broad. He has fans in red states and blue
states. He stays in his lane. Comedy, family,
sports. It protects the brand. Before we wrap
up, I feel like we have to mention the audio
career. Because before the movies, there were
the albums. The albums were the proof of concept.
They were huge. They're all going to laugh at
you in 1993. And what the hell happened to me
in 1996? Both went 2X platinum. I mean, they
were selling millions of copies. I wore those
tapes out. The Goat, Tollbooth Willie, The Longest
Pee. They were a mix of sketches and his songs.
And they showed that his comedy could sustain
a long format. It wasn't just a four -minute
bit on Weekend Update. He could build a world
with sound and characters that you could listen
to for an hour. Without the success of those
albums, I'm not sure he gets the green light
for Billy Madison. I think you're right. They
laid the groundwork for everything that came
after. So let's bring it all home. We've looked
at the Tisch training, the SNL firing, the box
office records, the arthouse acclaim, and the
Netflix empire. What is the legacy of Adam Sandler?
I think the Mark Twain Prize in 2023 was the
capstone. It was the establishment finally admitting
defeat. Admitting defeat. Yeah. Admitting, OK,
you won. For decades, the critical establishment
dismissed him, mocked him, but he outlasted them.
He built something so big and so successful that
they had no choice but to acknowledge his impact
on American humor. He beat the system by creating
his own system. He hacked it. Most people in
Hollywood have to compromise. They do movies,
they hate to pay the bills, or they beg for funding
for their passion projects. Saylor constructed
a reality where he does exactly what he wants
all the time. He split his career into two distinct
streams. Exactly. He has the vacation movies
he makes with his friends for Netflix. That's
the commerce that generates the wealth and keeps
the lights on for his entire crew. And then,
because he has that security, he can go off and
do uncut gems or hustle the prestige films to
satisfy his artistic soul and remind everyone
he can really, truly act. And here's the key.
He funds his art with his commerce, but he actually
enjoys the commerce too. That's the part people
miss. He's not miserable making grown -ups. He's
having a blast with his buddies on a paid vacation.
It is the ultimate creative hack. He's never
had to choose. He gets to do both. So here is
the final provocative thought for you, the listener.
Sandler has effectively created the perfect work
-life balance in the most ruthless industry on
earth. He makes work movies that are actually
just hanging out with his family and friends,
and he uses that to fund his passion projects
every few years. So the question is, is this
the ultimate hack for... creative life, funding
your art with your commerce, all while remaining
the same guy who plays pickup basketball in XXL
shorts. Maybe tonight, go rewatch Punch Drunk
Love and look for that technical precision we
talked about. Look for the method acting underneath
the blue suit or, you know, just blast the Chinooka
song and remember how he changed the culture
with a guitar and a rhyme. There is a lot more
going on under that baseball cap than people
give him credit for. Thanks for diving deep with
us on The Sandman. We'll see you on the next
one.