by MATTHEW HAYS

This review must begin with a warning to all Adam Sandler fans. This is not, in case you haven’t heard, akin to the run-of-the-mill idiocy the SNL alum is used to churning out. The laughs aren’t derived easily. And, as with Scorsese’s King of Comedy, there are many moments in the film that aren’t meant to be comedic at all.

The anticipation around Punch-Drunk Love has been great, seeing as its director is wunderkind Paul Thomas Anderson, the man behind the universally praised Boogie Nights and the not-so-universally-praised Magnolia. Basing the script on a true story about a man who acquired huge amounts of pudding so that he could acquire a ludicrous amount of frequent-flier air miles, Anderson takes his absurd inspiration point and goes full throttle with it. Going off the deep end and dragging Sandler with him, it’s as though Anderson has written his own Harold Pinter play and put the comic star in it. Sandler fan or no, Punch-Drunk Love will confound your expectations and keep you waiting for the next shot, the next line of dialogue, the next complication. Though getting weird has become the method du jour for indie filmmakers, Anderson has pitched his tone perfectly; this is a meticulous, incredibly well-thought-out movie, one which will remain with you long after the final credits roll.

Punctuated by Jon Brion’s insanely bombastic, largely percussive score—one of the best and most creative soundtracks in years—Punch-Drunk Love makes clear that its protagonist is a beleaguered male, trapped in between the rather ugly pressures of work, family life (he is henpecked by six sisters) and romance (or lack thereof). Struck by the urge one night, he phones a sex line, chatting with an ostensibly sweet girl called Georgia, handing over his credit card information and home phone number. The next day she’s hounding him by phone, insisting he fork over some money or she’ll expose him for the pervert he is. As the film rolls on, we realize Sandler’s attempt to brush off the blackmail may have severe ramifications for him.

Sandler, meanwhile, has become completely smitten with Emily Watson, a coworker of one of his sisters who takes an interest in him. Their first date is marred by one of his sisters, who’s filled Watson up with unflattering anecdotes about his childhood. The emotionally damaged Sandler takes it out on the restaurant bathroom.

Their love affair is musically accompanied by Shelley Duvall, in a number called “He Needs Me” that she sang in Altman’s Popeye (a 1980 film that was widely regarded as a fiasco). That Anderson has chosen such a strange piece of music from such an odd bit of pop culture history only adds to the already sensory-overload surrealism that Punch-Drunk Love packs. It’s a tribute to the director that what could have descended into so much pretentious posing instead emerges as an invigorating, lively and challenging movie. Prepare to be taken aback—this is one of the most pleasing surprises I’ve had in the cinema in a long, long while. :

Punch-Drunk Love opens Friday, Oct. 18

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