The Razor's Edge, Another Woman, The (shudder) Number 23: The dusty shelves of Blockbuster are riddled with movies by successful comedians yearning to cast off their pratfalling shackles and show some dramatic chops. Although said projects are often flawed, at best they can offer up a fascinating reveal of that inner core of neurosis that drives so many comics to get up on stage in the first place. At worst... well, at least it gives the viewer a greater appreciation for the films of Ingmar Bergman. The most interesting thing about Funny People, Judd Apatow's follow-up to Knocked Up, is how resistant the writer-director proves to be to abandoning his successful formula, attempting instead to cram a new, introspective core into his patented—and already overstuffed—slew of heavily improv-ed vulgarities and uneasy bromances. The dick jokes still fall like rain, but that's no longer nearly enough.

Beginning with some camcorder footage shot by Apatow when he himself was a struggling comedian, the story follows George Simmons (Adam Sandler), a prickly, dead-eyed superstar living in a gigantic mansion built on the back of a series of moronic baby-talk comedies. After getting diagnosed with leukemia, he attempts to reconnect with a married ex-girlfriend (Apatow's real-life wife Leslie Mann), with the aid of Seth Rogen as a struggling, worshipful joke-writer. Jonah Hill stops by occasionally to crack wise.

Apatow and Sandler undeniably know the world of which they speak, and their exploration into the downside of megastardom often carries an intriguing, bitter zing, with plentiful cameos from the likes of Sarah Silverman and Norm MacDonald. The problems arise with Apatow's apparently deepening inability to know when to say when. Broken down into bits and pieces, his attempted magnum opus is alternately hilarious and, yes, even moving. Taken as a sloppy, maudlin, two-and-a-half-hour whole, it paints the picture of a talented filmmaker whose insular self-regard is beginning to attract small planetoids. Casting your wife and children in a film is one thing, but making your third act hinge on the viewing of an adorable talent-show video of your older daughter? That's something that even M. Night Shyamalan would balk at. Okay, probably.