Tapped to script the web to silverscreen adaptation is longtime Adam Sandler collaborator Tim Herlihy, who worked with Sandler on Saturday Night Live, and many of his feature comedies like “Billy Madison,” “The Wedding Singer” and “Just Go With It.”

Written and directed by Patrick Jean, the two-minute short, which depicted 1980s video game characters attacking New York City, caught the eye of executives who saw the potential for a “Ghostbusters”-style action/comedy in which video game characters emerge from TV screens to inflict mayhem and destruction on the physical world.

Check out the short:

Having ascended the ranks like a rocket without plans for reentry, comedian George Simmons (Adam Sandler), once a respected and innovative master of the art of stand-up, has been artistically corrupted by his immense commercial success.  His edgy, anti-establishment, comedic war on the status quo waged in the dank, scuzzy comedy clubs and bars of Nowhere, USA, has given way to the banality of broad, profit-driven, family-friendly comedy.  That is the paradox — fame and fortune often bring derision and irrelevance. Without a major course correction, Simmons likely would have slowly faded into lonely, wealthy oblivion, his early work all but forgotten. Luckily, he’s diagnosed with cancer and tries to get back to his bread and butter before his time expires.

Along for the ride is Ira Wright (Seth Rogen), an up-and-coming comedian with a sharp wit, but a less than perfect delivery.  Simmons hires Ira to write some jokes for the ailing star’s return to the stand-up circuit, and a burgeoning friendship quickly develops.  We spend much time with the two comedians, at opposite ends of the spectrum of success, and the lachrymose-tinged interplay between Rogen and Sandler is genuine, enjoyable, and often hilarious.

Wright splits his time between talking Simmons to sleep every night and hanging out with his struggling, comedian roommates played by Jonah Hill and Jason Schwartzman.  The exchanges between the latter provide effective splashes of comic relief from the often melancholy mood of the lonesome, echoing halls of Simmons’ mansion.  The best gag in the movie comes from Schwartzman’s character, a pompous D-list actor who revels in his starring role as a hip high school teacher helping urban kids appreciate the “raps” of Shakespeare on a daytime TV series called “Yo Teach!”

Though, as mentioned, Apatow runs into a myriad of problems in the telling of this personal story.  The compelling setup where we learn the ins and outs of life as a comic, the dangers of unmitigated commercial success, and the superficiality of opportunistic celebrity friendships is largely nullified by the meandering, directionless, self-indulgent third act.  There is no real character arc for Simmons, and the payoff is wholly unearned.  And, although the subject matter delves deeper, and the characters more fully realized than his previous efforts, Apatow can’t seem to cull the same from his comedic writing.  Penis jokes reign supreme, drowning out the flashes of brilliance in gags like “Yo Teach!”  Subtlety, that elusive storytelling skill that made the late, great John Hughes such a comedic force, has not yet been mastered by Apatow.

Nonetheless, the film manages to somehow remain affable, like the neighborhood kid that unwittingly chucks a baseball through your front window.  You try your best to be mad, but you know it wasn’t on purpose — his clumsiness and awkward innocence contributing to his likability.  There’s an astute, fully realized dramatic comedy lurking somewhere beneath Apatow’s persistent juvenility.  “Funny People” is not that film, but it’s enough to hold us over until its arrival.

(Score: 3.5/5)