Four hundred years ago when Shakespeare wrote, “To thine own self be true,” he could not have imagined that his words would provide the bedrock of a raucous teen comedy and yet here we are. “Booksmart,” Olivia Wilde’s feature directorial debut, is both high and low brow, touching and sentimental in its look at female friendship.
Molly (Beanie Feldstein) and Amy (Kaitlyn Dever) are best friends. Inseparable, they are class president and vice-president, Michelle Obama acolytes who listen to self-empowerment tapes. “You’ve worked harder than anyone and that’s why you are a champion. Stand at the top of the mountain of your success and look down on everyone who has ever doubted you.” Molly is a perfectionist who corrects the grammar on bathroom wall graffiti while Amy is off to Botswana to “help women make tampons.”
On the eve of their high school graduation, they have Yale and Columbia in their sights but when Molly realizes her slacker schoolmates are also going to Ivy League schools she isn’t happy. “We chose to study so we could get into good schools,” she says. “They didn’t choose.” After semesters of prioritizing academics over socializing they attempt to cram four years of fun into one night. “Nobody knows we are fun,” Molly says. “We are smart and fun. What took them four years were doing in one night.”
There’s only one big problem; they don’t have the address of the hip graduation party and no one is answering their texts. “We have never hung out with any of these people except academically,” Amy says. “They probably think we’re calling about school.” After some misadventures on a tricked-out yacht and at a murder mystery party they use their academic skills. “How will we find out where next party is? By doing what we do best, homework.”
“We are 8A+ people and we need an A+ party.”
The plot synopsis of “Booksmart” sounds like it could have been lifted from any number of other high school comedies but director Wilde simply uses the of high school graduation party set-up as a backdrop for her hilarious study of female bonding. The premise may be familiar but the charm of the movie is all in execution and the connected chemistry between the leads.
In her feature debut Wilde is so self-assured, staging big party scenes, a dance number and even car chases but never allows the focus to drift from Molly and Amy. Even when the supporting cast—the cosmically free-spirited Gigi (Billie Lourd), rich kid Jared (Skyler Gisondo), the much-talked-about AAA (Molly Gordon) or the very theatrical drama club members Alan and George (Austin Crute and Noah Galvin)—gets showcased in increasingly outrageous ways Wilde never lets their humanity trump the humour. In other words, it’s funny because it’s based in truth; real human behavior.
Feldstein and Dever are the film’s beating heart. Both have crushes on other people—Molly likes party boy Nick (Mason Gooding), Amy has her eye on skater girl Ryan (Victoria Ruesga)—but deep down they are soul mates. They click, whether it is through their banter or the knowing looks they exchange, and by the time “Unchained Melody,” that ode to unconditional love, spills from the theatre’s speakers there’s no doubt that Molly and Amy are bound to be connected forever, or at least until adult life gets in the way.
Like its main characters “Booksmart” is true to its self, an overachiever that knows how to have a good time.
Amy Poehler’s feature directorial debut, “Wine Country,” is the story of friends brought together for a birthday but it is also a real-life comedy reunion. Poehler and co-stars Tina Fey, Maya Rudolph, Ana Gasteyer and Rachel Dratch made their comedy bones on “Saturday Night Live” and reunite now in an ode to female friendship.
Poehler plays Abby, the under-employed a-type organizer of a Napa getaway for her therapist friend Rebecca’s (Dratch) 50th birthday. “I want this to feel like a regular vacation,” says Rebecca. “We’ll sit around, talk, wear muumuus and somewhere in there I’ll slide into 50.” Of course, it won’t be that simple. Abby’s perfectionism, not to mention her minute-by-minute itinerary, doesn’t sit well with the others who have their own issues. Entrepreneur Catherine (Gasteyer) is a workaholic, always checking her cell phone. “Life’s a juggle,” she says. Jenny (Emily Spivey, who also co-wrote the script) is agoraphobic and doesn’t want to leave her room while mother of four Naomi (Rudolph) is avoiding her doctor’s phone calls and Val is involved with a much younger woman.
They came together to rest, relax and reconnect but as the weekend progresses the words of Tammy, owner of their Airbnb appear to come true. “Just remember,” says Tammy (Fey), “whatever gets said is probably what the person has always thought and alcohol just let it out.”
Before it gets to its ultimate “it’s later than you think” message “Wine Country” is a charming collection of physical humour—it’s always funny when somebody falls down—mom jokes—“I thought MDMA was that extreme fighting where they do cocaine and fight,” says Val.—and some very specific in-jokes—“Life is too short to wait for the paella.”
Poehler plays much of this for laughs but doesn’t forget to create memorable moments. A long close-up on Abby’s face as she makes a decision is both funny and telling of her state of mind. The bickering between the friends as secrets come to light has a delicate touch but underneath the gags are real insights about the life events that drive wedges between lifelong besties. Light but heartfelt, it’s a celebration of adult female friendship in all its forms from Naomi’s enthusiastic “let’s party till our panties fly off” call to arms to the film’s more tender moments.
“Wine Country” is at its best when it showcases the chemistry of the performers. Pop psychology and pratfalls aside, it’s great fun to spend time with these women as they figure out their lives and relationships.
After years of slogging it out in the comedy clubs Tiffany Haddish burst into the collective consciousness with a bravura turn in last year’s “Girl’s Trip.” Charismatic, funny and filthy, she became an overnight sensation with years of experience. In “Night School” she stars opposite superstar Kevin Hart in her first name-above-the-title movie.
Hart plays Teddy Walker, a successful BBQ salesman about to ask Lisa (Megalyn Echikunwoke), the love of his life, for her hand in marriage when disaster strikes. A stray champagne cork knocks off the top of a gas container and BOOM, his car dealership is reduced to rubble. His investment adviser best friend (Ben Schwartz) wants to give him a job but can’t. “You’re the best salesman I’ve ever seen,” he says, “but my boss won’t let me hire a dropout.” If he ever wants to make real money he has to go to night school and get his GED.
Enrolling at an adult education course at a local school he meets fellow students hipster Mila (Anne Winters), single mom Theresa (Mary Lynn Rajskub) and their teacher Carrie (Haddish). “I’m here to make a little extra cash so that I can afford rent and some luxuries like antibiotics because this job makes me sick sometimes.” She’s a no-nonsense teacher who realizes Teddy may have a learning disability.
Forget sending Teddy back to school. It’s “Night School’s” script that needs to go back to class. While it touches on worthy, hot button topics regarding the lack of funding for schools, and the importance of education most of the jokes get a failing grade. There’s the odd laugh but this is a comedy in genre category only. Haddish is wasted in a role that doesn’t give her the chance to fully strut herself, Hart pulls out his usual crowd-pleasing shtick to diminishing returns. The supporting cast supplies some giggles. Cudos to Romany Malco for ramping up the weird in his portrayal of the conspiratorial student Jaylen.
“Night School” is filled with funny people but the humour falls somewhere on a scale between “Welcome Back Kotter” and “Saved by the Bell.”
It can be tough to stay in touch with friends after college. People scatter, get married, have kids, don’t answer the phone as much. In real life Joe Tombari and his pals figured out a unique way to stay connected, an elaborate game of tag that has kept them in touch—literally—for more than two decades. “The best thing about the game,” he told “The Guardian,” “is that it has kept us in touch over all these years—it forces us to meet and has formed a strong bond between us, almost like brothers.”
A new film starring Jeremy Renner, Jon Hamm, Jake Johnson, Isla Fisher, Annabelle Wallis, Leslie Bibb, Ed Helms, Hannibal Buress, and Rashida Jones takes Tombari’s game to an extreme.
For one month of each of the last thirty years Hoagie (Helms), Jerry (Renner), Bob (Hamm), Chili (Johnson) and Kevin (Buress) go to war, playing a game of tag with no rules and no prisoners. The last ‘it” of the season lives in shame for the rest of the year.
The latest game overlaps with the wedding of alpha dog Jerry, the only undefeated player. “He’s the best who ever played,” says Hoagie, “and now he wants to retire and make us all look like fools.” The old friends rally to put an end to Jerry’s winning streak.
The movie takes the real life premise and pushes it to extremes. These competitive fools will stop at nothing—including physical harm—to win. It’s a funny idea that does deliver some laughs but ultimately becomes a one-joke premise tarted up with some mild action, a dollop of psychological warfare, some raunchy humour and even a simulated war crime played for yuks. The bromantic chemistry between the guys is good—and Buress with his non-sequitirs and deadpan delivery steals the show—but the film works best before it overindulges in elaborate set pieces. Hoagie disguised as a woman in an attempt to take Jerry by surprise is funny. Jerry’s booby-trapped forest, à la “Apocalypse Now,” pushes the story too far from the core—a friendly movie about male bonding—and into the realm of the ridiculous.
The movie finishes with clips of Tombari and his pals playing the real-life game and suggests that a documentary might have been just as entertaining as the narrative film.
From Fred Flintstone to Gilligan to Tarzan, many television and movie characters have had their personalities changed by a bonk to the head. It’s a comedy trope as old as time, resurrected for the new lumpy headed Amy Schumer film “I Feel Pretty.”
Schumer is Renee, a young woman consumed with feelings of insecurity. ”I’ve always wondered,” she says, “ what it would feel like to be undeniably pretty.” She works in IT for a cosmetics company far across town from their glamorous fifth Avenue headquarters, office to Renée’s idol, her boss Avery LeClaire (Michelle Williams). Stung by a salesperson’s coded suggestion that she is too large to be shopping in store—“You could probably find your size on line.”—she spins away the blues at a SoulCycle class. “No matter how often we hear, ‘It’s what’s on the inside that matters,’” she says, “women know that it is what’s on the outside the whole world judges.” While her spin instructor chants, “Change your mind, change your body,” Renee takes a tumble, smashing her head against a stationary bike and is transformed. “Oh my God! I look beautiful.” The bump on the head fills her with the kind of self-esteem she has been missing, setting her free to live the life she has always dreamed of. “I get it,” she says, “modelling is an option for me, but it is just not me.”
Change-your-life movies like “Big” work because there is not only transitional hocus pocus but heart and soul as well. “I Feel Pretty” has plenty of sentiment and tries like hell to wring a tear or two out of weary eyes in its uplifting finale but ultimately it’s a sitcom stretched to feature length. It’s a movie about a woman who briefly gets what she wants only to discover (THE MILDEST OF SPOILERS) she always had it.
Despite hot button messages about anti-bullying, body positivity and “What if we never lost our little girl confidence” sentiments, the film is one joke driven into the ground, topped by the inevitable platitude, “Renée, I’ve always seen you.” Despite the good intentions the movie’s central gag, that Renée can’t be happy with herself until she sees a thin version of herself staring back at her in the mirror, feels tone deaf. The movie touches on issues of body image and Renée does eventually come around to the idea that loving one’s self isn’t about how you look but the idea of a movie star, with all the frills of Western beauty standards, complaining about the way she looks is a tough premise to pull off.
“I Feel Pretty” may have worked better if it was funnier or if Renée didn’t have to suffer a head wound to feel good about herself or if post bonk Renée wasn’t completely clueless and oblivious. Schumer has made a name for herself essaying this kind of material in her stand-up but on stage her underlying self-confidence comes through as strength, not arrogance. In the film it comes off as crass.
On the upside Michele Williams, who almost never does comedy, shines as the kitten voiced CEO.
“I Feel Pretty” is well intentioned. The “embrace yourself” message is ultimately a good one. Too bad the film has such a strange way of expressing it.
