Nick Reiner, grandson and son of Hollywood royalty Carl Reiner and Rob Reiner, has been in and out of rehab since the age of 15. Now 22, after living homeless across the United States and cycling through 17 different rehab stays, he decided to stop using heroin.
As part of his therapy and recovery process, Nick co-wrote the film Being Charlie with his father, Rob Reiner, who also directed the movie. The film draws directly from Nick’s lived experience with addiction and treatment.
Today, Nick joins Chris and Dave of the Dopey Podcast for a candid, nonjudgmental dialogue about addiction, the pros and cons of the 12-step program, finding (or not finding) God, practical tools for getting sober, and the many different reasons and forms addiction can take.
Below is a write-up from the Dopey founders, followed by podcast links.
Early Addiction and Life in Treatment
In March of 2011, I entered my 14th treatment center for heroin, cocaine, and alcohol abuse. A week before checking in, my brother and sister picked me up in Harlem. In a blackout, I had boarded a bus from Boston and decided to reinvent my life in New York City. Within days, my money had gone into my arm, I was homeless, and I was trying to sell my last possession: a dead cell phone I had found on the street.
This fell on the mild end of the spectrum of disasters I had been responsible for over the years.
At the new rehab, I left my unopened Dollar Store packages of white t-shirts, boxers, and sweatpants on my bed and immediately went outside for a cigarette. The most authentic expressions of rehab patients can be found in the designated smoking area. Nearly a decade of shuffling through treatment centers across the country had taught me this.
The Smoking Pit and Rehab Reality
There is the mother who laments losing custody of her child during group, then asks another client to cheek medication that night. There is the husband who praises his wife’s unconditional love, then flirts between cigarette puffs. And then there are those whose behavior is consistent. They tend to do better.
I smoked off to the side and silently judged my peers for roles I had once played myself. I spoke when spoken to and rarely volunteered. I figured no one would stay in touch, most would relapse, and some would die. I wore a smile, but behind it was bitterness toward the life I was living and the people who reflected it back to me.
Meeting Dave and the Birth of Dopey
Enter Dave, with his Marlboro Reds, ear-to-ear smile, and relentless likability. He spilled his life story onto me—his daughter, her mother, rehab exploits, heroin addiction—until I found myself enjoying our conversations. Dave could laugh at his own idiocy without minimizing the seriousness of addiction. I shared my own stories, and we laughed hard at things that would horrify most people.
I felt better.
I got better.
One could say Dopey was born in those conversations. Versions of them have existed for decades in rehab smoking pits, outside 12-step meetings, and in chance encounters between addicts. The therapeutic value of one addict helping another is unparalleled, and for many of us, comedy and identification are the delivery systems.
Five years later, I brought my laptop to Dave’s Lower East Side apartment and hit record. Preparation was nonexistent. What came out was a raw, no-holds-barred conversation about drugs, recovery philosophy, and lived experience.
Discovering an Audience
With little promotion and full anonymity, emails started coming in—from convicted bank robbers to people in long-term recovery. Everyone had a story. Humor was the common thread. We realized that Dopey’s darkly comedic, nonjudgmental format filled a space other recovery shows didn’t.
Then Dave called me and said, “We have to get Nick Reiner on the show.”
Nick had just been on Howard Stern with his dad discussing Being Charlie and openly criticizing AA. Controversy makes good conversation. Four months later, Nick was on our couch, cigarette in hand, speaking with total authenticity.
Nick Reiner on Recovery and Sobriety
Nick wasn’t offended by my ignorance of Hollywood royalty. Having spent much of his life in rehab, he understood frustration, silence, and skepticism. This—not famous relatives—was the basis of our connection.
Nick shared that he still smokes marijuana and drinks occasionally, though he hasn’t used heroin in nearly four years. After making Being Charlie, he found it difficult to appear on sobriety-focused shows due to abstinence-only thinking. Dopey’s tolerant, open format allowed him to be honest.
Nick explained that black-and-white thinking around addiction fueled his relapses. When he believed total abstinence was the only option, any slip led back to needles. When he challenged that framework, he was able to moderate his use and pursue fulfillment through creativity. He emphasized that this approach works for him and is paired with meaningful action.
Seventeen Rehabs and Homelessness
In Part Two, Nick dives deeper into his journey through 17 treatment centers nationwide, including Little Hill Alina Lodge in Blairstown, New Jersey. Known as a last-stop facility with strict rules, Nick lasted six months before being discharged for attitude issues and dropped at a Salvation Army shelter.
Other rehab experiences ended in homelessness, including a stay in Maine that led Nick to choose life on the road over another treatment cycle. He recounts chaotic, often darkly humorous experiences that underscore the complexity of addiction and survival.
Why Nick Reiner Became a Regular Guest
Nick’s self-deprecating humor and honesty resonated deeply. Though our recovery paths differ, we connected through candor, laughter, and shared understanding.
As Dave puts it, “This isn’t a hysterical podcast about addiction. It’s a chill podcast.”
Nick barely scratched the surface of his story and plans to return as a regular guest—provided he isn’t spending all day smoking weed and watching The Simpsons.
