text: What we've got here is a Situation. A man is found to be in distress and people want to help him -- in contrasting ways. At the end they are forced to let it go. You can't fix people. And though in various aspects Reign Over Me is conventionally Hollywood, that message isn't.<br /><br />This story is not about Charlie Fineman (Adam Sandler), a man who lost his wife and three daughters in a 9/11 plane who's gone into a nearly psychotic state of PTSS since. It's about what meeting Charlie does to Alan Johnson (Don Cheadle), a dentist in New York who was his roommate in dental school and, knowing about his tragedy, spots him on the street and reconnects. Charlie is riding around on a little toy motorized scooter -- a pretty fanciful contraption for negotiating Manhattan traffic -- with big headphones on over a mass of unruly hair. The hair is Sandler's chief prop to show he's deranged. And the use of music as an escape must hit home to every iPod-wielding subway rider.<br /><br />Charlie is a disaster, but paradoxically Alan, stuck with a controlling wife (Jada Pinkett Smith), soon begins to envy him. Charlie is living like an nutty adolescent boy with a huge trust fund (insurance money from the tragedy), and starts dragging Alan off to "hang out," "eat Chinese," buy records, or watch a Mel Brooks marathon at a rep house. Charlie lives in a nice big apartment protected by a mean landlady, redoing the kitchen over and over, collecting old vinyl of Springsteen, the Who, etc., and playing a video game called Shadow of the Collosus on a giant screen in a big empty living room.<br /><br />Charlie's in-laws are deeply concerned about him, but also somehow resentful, as we learn later. Alan has a new patient who is propositioning him. Charlie's desperation makes us see Alan's. Trying to help Charlie partly permits Alan to escape from his own stifling realities but partly just makes him more acutely aware of them.<br /><br />Cheadle and Sandler make an odd couple, but that doesn't matter, because it's convincing that they might both need each other. Charlie is desperate for the companionship of a friend who never knew his family, because to escape his loss, he is pretending he never had one. And so what if as a roommate Charlie slept naked and sleep walked and had terrible musical taste (no Motown)? Alan wants an escape from his tidy, emasculating life. He's under the thumb not just of his wife but of his dental partners, who lord it over him though it's he who set up the practice. They're white, by the way, and he's black.<br /><br />There's also the lascivious patient from hell, who seriously disrupts things at the dental offices, but starts looking different when Charlie comes by and notices she's a babe. His libido seems to be lurking ready to revive at any minute. He's also drawn to the breasts of Liv Tyler, a psychotherapist in the same building as the dentists who starts trying to treat Charlie when he admits he might need help.<br /><br />Sandler's mad scenes are a little too theatrical, as are a lot of the plot devices (in fact this movie feels like a play at more than one point), but he has several monologues where he expresses his sorrow in ways that are deeply touching.<br /><br />Charlie's not just delusional and sad, but dangerous and violent, and all these efforts to help him start to backfire. The movie is admirable in the way it conveys a sense that people can't be made right. This is an interesting movie -- sometimes a touching one -- and it's the first time 9/11 has been dealt with in terms of survivor suffering. But there is an element of comedy that seems tasteless at times, many of the people are too broadly drawn, and the overly grand Hollywood interiors have dreadful décor; only the Manhattan streets look real. There's a courtroom scene that is preposterous, and Donald Sutherland is a judge who's too good to be true. Alan's family problem is resolved too easily with a phone call. And yet this is worth watching for the acting -- the control and subtlety of Cheadle, and Sandler in a serious role almost as good as the one he had in P.T. Anderson's 2002 Punch-Drunk Love, though that's clearly a better movie, in fact a much better one.