By stripping away all the baggage that generally comes with Sandler - yes, that means David Spade, Rob Schneider (who only appears for a brief moment, the special's worst), all the over-the-top costumes and absurd plots - the audience can focus on Sandler. The only other person on stage is pianist Dan Bulla, who co-wrote all the songs and occasionally acts as a foil.
Sandler doesn't totally ditch the silly voices or ridiculous characters; he just doesn't try turning them into a feature-length movie. Instead, the whole special feels like it was made for the social media generation. It's culled from dozens of live performances from venues ranging from tiny comedy clubs to arenas in Los Angeles and New Jersey.
Nearly every segment - the longest of which lasts about a minute, until the final 10 minutes - comes from a different appearance. Sometimes multiple performances are spliced together into a single, less than 60-second bit. The result is that each one could easily be dropped into a tweet, or an Instagram post, and stand completely alone.
That quickness enhances the special, allowing it to feel like hanging out with a friend who's just riffing on anything that comes to mind - a far cry from spending 90 minutes with one, singular idea.
And it's casual to boot. He constantly breaks, laughing at himself. He wears hoodies, T-shirts and loose, unbuttoned shirts. He tells dumb jokes like "I go to the gym, of course, but only to pick my wife up," and then cracks up at how dumb they are.
Perhaps the biggest takeaway from the special is how gifted a musician the comic is. He perfectly apes artists as wide-ranging as Joy Division, Interpol, Bruce Springsteen, Billy Joel and Migos. The songs are joyfully childish, generally revolving around a simple idea like a smelly Uber driver, what we carry in our pockets in the modern world, or your kid being cast in a school play. ("My kid's only got one line in the play, I said my kid's only got one line in the play / It's in the first five minutes, but my wife says we still gotta stay the whole way," he sings.)
The two best moments that are almost assured to go viral on social media are unexpected in wildly different ways.
One is a prerecorded bit of Sandler in disguise attempting to busk in a New York City subway. He's performing the same material as in this special, but no one finds him funny. He doesn't get a cent, but he does get some dirty looks. It's almost like Sandler is saying, "Yeah, I know this is stupid, but at least it's fun?"
The second is the totally unexpected one-two punch of the show's final songs: one an ode to his late friend Chris Farley and the other an ode to his wife, Jackie Sandler.
He introduces the Farley song with: "This is a very special song." And it is. With a Farley montage playing on a screen behind him, Sandler sings about his friend with an unexpected sincerity, even while the lyrics generally remain humorous.
Halfway through, he launches into a sorrowful (really!) guitar solo that lasts for more than a minute.
Then Sandler sings some truth: "We'd tell him somehow you'll end up like Belushi and Candy / He said those guys are my heroes that's all fine and dandy," before offering a painful scene from Farley's funeral:
"But a few months later, the party came to an end
"We flew out to Madison to bury our friend
"Nothing was harder than saying goodbye
"Except watching Chris' father have his turn to cry"
The song is deeply affecting, ending with a coda: "Maybe, if we'll make enough noise, he'll hear us."
"I couldn't wait to sing that, and I knew it would be special," he tells the audience, before fondly remembering his friend. "He was the best. He was the best."
For the last few minutes, Sandler holds on to that vulnerability by closing the show with a sincere - if not funny and a little dirty - song to his wife with an updated version of "Grow Old With You" from "The Wedding Singer."
It chronicles their relationship, including a callback to the special's title: "When I'm on a diet, you take away my potatoes / Say '(expletive) all those guys after reading Rotten Tomatoes / I hope they all die miserable deaths as I grow old with you.'"
Perhaps, for the first time in a long while, Jackie Sandler won't have to wish death to critics, who are praising the special. Because by stripping away all the absurd accoutrements, the comic seems to have remembered what made him funny in the first place: being himself.
