During his wildly successful career, Adam Sandler has veered between two characters: the juvenile delinquent facing down adulthood with an arsenal of spitballs and the emotionally fractured loner who shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a child. Critics may swoon over the latter, whose finest moment came in 2002's "Punch-Drunk Love," but the nearly 12,000 people who battled traffic and locust-swarming bugs to see the entertainer at Treasure Island Casino's new outdoor venue Wednesday clearly wanted Billy Madison.
Sandler obliged. For nearly 90 minutes, the goofiest of the "Saturday Night Live" goofs giggled through nearly 90 minutes of hormone-fueled jokes about bowel movements and other bodily functions, matching the low-brow tone set by high-profile openers David Spade, Rob Schneider and Minnesota native Nick Swardson.
Despite no longer being a regular on the stand-up circuit — the Netflix-sponsored tour has only booked four cities this year — Sandler was completely at ease on stage. However, he appeared to be relying on a TelePrompter every time he segued into musical ditties, which he typically sold with Springsteen-like sincerity before lurching toward dark codas that may have inspired more pious attendees to find solace in a port-a-potty.
But it was another, more subtle persona that really stood out, one that Sandler flirted with in 2004's "Spanglish" but has seemed reluctant to fully embrace. It's that of the confused, but well-meaning caretaker, the one who makes his kids roll their eyes, but is always a hit at birthday parties.
It's the kind of role Steve Martin started turning to after his wild-and-crazy period, and Sandler has the underlying sweetness to follow suit. Whether he has the desire is another question. He would definitely have to clean up his act before taking that meeting with Disney; he apologized more than once to Swardson's mother for both his and her son's language.
But Sandler was at his best when sharing tales about raising his two daughters, his delivery striking just the right balance of frustration and awe. A love song dedicated to his wife was more winning than a number about craving kinky sex in the back seat of his father's car, as was a tribute to the late Chris Farley. On both, Sandler displayed guitar skills so impressive that he may want to consider fronting a "dad band."
Talk of family-friendlier fare may bug the 50-year-old megastar who, based on his recent string of Netflix films, seems determined to extend his childhood a few more years.
Hope not. Sandler would make an appealing adult. And no, that's not a plea for "Grown Ups 3."
@nealjustin • 612-673-7431
