Adam Sandler. The mere mention of the name is enough to warrant queasiness in those without a skateboard, pulsing acne and recent memories of puberty.

The veteran of Little Nicky, The Wedding Singer and Big Daddy has become synonymous with so-called frat-boy humour.

That is to say a vulgar obsession with lavatorial humour, where sex is always slightly seedy and normally a solitary pursuit.

The woefully self-aggrandising Eight Crazy Nights appeared to put the seal on Sandler's brand of comedy... and then along came this.

Salvation was provided in the form of director Thomas Anderson, who was behind the hilarious porn biopic Boogie Nights and the wonderfully surreal Magnolia.

Writing specifically for Sandler, he created the role of Barry Egan, a complex man who is basically decent but not entirely in control of his emotions.

When feeling particularly stressed, his natural reaction is physical - smashing patio windows or punching his fist into a wall.

Lovelorn, he seeks some sort of satisfacton from a phone sex line... only to find himself the subject of a blackmail attempt by telecomm temptress.

As luck would have it, all this is unreeling as he's getting to know Lena (Watson), an intriguing waif who works with Barry's sister.

It's the surreal occurrences that Barry encounters which lend his life authenticity - like his discovery that a bulk purchase of 25c desserts can buy him 500 air miles.

Sandler reins back on his customary OTT excesses to deliver a performance rich in nuance and perfectly pitched.

It's by no means an ordinary love story but - a thing rare in contemporary cinema - it's a convincing one.

Tim Evans