Those familiar with the structure of the Jackass franchise will recognize the genuine camaraderie that comes with committing acts of sadomasochism with your closest friends, and Lije Sarki’s Sweet Dreams maintains a similar kind of intimacy with its story of a group of addicts in recovery, albeit with a focus on self-improvement in place of the typical stunt work and physical injuries that we know and love.
Johnny Knoxville reprises his role of leader to a group of misfits as Morris, a struggling alcoholic who, after a night of binge drinking, leaves his young daughter home alone, gets into a bar fight at a work event and wakes up on a park bench where he decides it’s finally time to receive treatment for his addiction. He winds up at Sweet Dreams, a sober living facility that houses other men in need of stability while they work through meetings and face the challenges of their sobriety. Morris initially struggles to connect with his fellow housemates, including troublemaker Garvey (Theo Von) and the sweet-natured Cruise (Bobby Lee). When it’s revealed that the residence faces foreclosure, the guys make the unanimous decision to elect Morris as their coach for a softball tournament that, in the logic of this kind of picture, is their only way to raise the necessary funds.
Sarki’s script brings out a genuine vulnerability within the characters, despite its outer layer of adolescent humor. Sweet Dreams does a stellar job acknowledging the fear surrounding addiction while leaving room for humor as a healthy coping mechanism. Conversations during the group’s daily meetings capture a genuine rapport among the cast and feel like they make real points about the misconceptions of staying clean. When Frank (Jay Mohr) tells Morris about the burden of choice, his words are cushioned by a comforting self-deprecation that clearly resonates with the other characters and the film’s writer-director.
Some moments feel like they could have been more deeply explored, especially those involving Morris’s connections to his family, specifically to his ex-wife and mother — who reappear close to the end — and most of the conflict is neatly tied up a little over-serendipitously. The softball subplot acts as crutch at times, moving the story along formulaically by following each game leading up to the championship, and for the most part Sweet Dreams plays it rather safe in terms of plot beats.
Sweet Dreams may not take as many risks as it should, but it manages to maintain a sense of solidarity that always benefits its subject matter, and it wisely never confines sobriety to one kind of experience. Sarki writes what he knows, resulting in genuine dialogue that’s delivered by a game cast that can riff off each other effortlessly. It’s a much brighter display of sober living than we’re used to seeing, and Knoxville feels like the right person to reclaim his role as a father figure to an otherwise misguided group of guys who ultimately find solace in each other’s company while participating in absolute dude activities.
Photo courtesy of Paramount Pictures
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