by George Wolf
They Came Together
The non-threateningly attractive, amiable Paul Rudd is an easy guy to like. Maybe even to fall in love with…unless he’s a corporate drone working for the ultra-behemoth conglomerate that’s about to put your quirky, independent candy store out of business! Then he’s just a dreamy boy you could fall in love with but you won’t, damn it! You just won’t!
Director David Wain likes him, though. He likes him well enough to cast him as the lead in every single one of his films, including his latest, They Came Together.
For the provocatively titled newest effort, Wain collaborates with co-writer Michael Showalter, who helped him pen another Rudd vehicle, the cultish gem Wet Hot American Summer. Where that film lampooned summer camp films, the latest effort sends up New York City rom/coms.
Both films are endearingly silly, insightful, packed with genuine talent, and loaded with laughs. Rudd is joined this time around by reliably funny Amy Poehler as maybe the love of his life, if they can get past that candy store thing and a couple dozen other hurdles.
Wain is not just after the big, obvious genre clichés, either – though not one is safe. He’s equally adept at uncovering small, overlooked crutches of the romantic comedy and skewering those, as well. So what went so wrong?
Nothing feels fresh, for starters. So many films have poked fun at romantic comedy clichés that the satire is stale. The humor is broad when it needs to be, targeted at times, and often very funny, but utterly and immediately forgettable.
Just as problematic is that the 83 minute running time feels bloated. Jokes are repeated so incessantly that they lose potency, and Wain’s film has trouble mocking the tired and familiar without feeling a little spent itself. It plays like extended sketch comedy, some of which is spot-on, though too much of it is filler.
With laughs to be had, sight gags galore, priceless cameos, an enviable cast and a quick run time, it’s hardly the worst way to spend a little time in the air conditioning. You know, since Wet Hot American Summer doesn’t stream on Netflix.
Obvious Child
Obvious Child is at times funny, crude, poignant, sad and awkward- kinda like life. And through it all, it is a film that feels honest – so much so that it’s hard to believe the lead actor didn’t also write the screenplay.
Writer/director Gillian Robespierre expands her 2009 short film and again casts Jenny Slate as Donna, a twenty-something bookstore clerk who does standup comedy by night. After her boyfriend takes her to dumpsville, Donna rebounds by hooking up with preppy Max (Jake Lacy)…only to find herself knocked up by preppy Max.
To paint this film as the “abortion rom-com” is both understandable and unfair. While the comedic approach it takes to such a polarizing issue all but guarantees a controversial label, Obvious Child is far from single-minded.
Robespierre brings a refreshingly casual frankness to a collection of life snapshots, all echoing with authenticity. There’s no pretense or judgement, and only a hint of the self-absorption that often plagues similar dramadies (yes, Girls).
And the neurotic thread running through it all is the strange compulsion to unburden the soul for perfect strangers in a comedy club.
Slate (Kroll Show/Parks and Recreation/SNL) is letter-perfect as a woman whose brutally personal comedy routines seem to be her only outlet for confronting anything personal in her life. The situation with Max becomes her wake-up call.
Perhaps most surprisingly, Robespierre transforms a 23 minute short film into a nearly 90 minute feature without tacking on superfluous filler. It all works, from Donna’s relationship with her parents (Polly Draper, Richard Kind) to the support from her loyal best friend (Gaby Hoffman).
Obvious Child delights in exploring roads that are rarely traveled in romantic comedies – but don’t expect a parody. As Jimmy Buffett has often said about his song Why Don’t We Get Drunk, this is a love story…from a different point of view.
We Are the Best
“Say one good thing about my life.”
“You’re in the best band in the world!”
A nice line, made even nicer in We Are the Best! (Vi ar bast!), when it’s part of a conversation between two thirteen year-old girls with punk haircuts, feisty attitudes, and no musical training whatsoever.
Anarchy in the U.K.!
Actually, it’s Sweden in 1982, when Klara (Mira Grosin) and Bobo (Mira Brakhammar) are restless teens exasperated by the lameness of their parents, other kids at school, popular music and whatever else ya got.
One afternoon at a recreation center they hear a local band rehearsing, and complain that the music is too loud. When their objections are ignored, the girls decide to form their own band and get louder.
Bobo’s on the drums, with Klara on bass and vocals, and soon they are writing their first song, a defiant anthem to their gym teacher called “Hate the Sport.” So awesome.
Their aim is to perform the song at the school talent show, but the deadline to register has passed, so the pair watches the show from the bleachers. Their mocking attention to the performers turns more serious when the introverted Hedvig (Liv LeMoyme) displays wonderful talent on the classical guitar.
Can Klara and Bobo bring out Hedvig’s inner punk, and together launch a ferocious all-girl punk revolution?
Writer/director Lukas Moodysson (Lilya 4-Ever, Mammoth) has adapted his wife Coco’s comic book into a joyous portrait of teenage rebellion.
In the early 80s, New Wave has become the hip genre, leaving Klara and Bobo as outcasts for their punk leanings. Moodysson, together with touching performances from his young cast, is able to craft a sweet, captivating microcosm of an utterly unique time in life.
Feelings of alienation, jealousy and confusion are illustrated but never overdone, as the band’s formation becomes a wonderful metaphor for finding where you belong, and finally being heard. The girls discover that getting together to bang on instruments and yell becomes a great way to do both.
The band never does get around to picking a name, which seems fitting. We Are the Best! delivers a universal message in exhilarating fashion.
Jodorowsky’s Dune
Jodorowsky’s Dune isn’t actually the famed director’s long-overdue treatment of a science fiction classic, but you’ll end up wishing that it was.
And, ironically, that’s a testament to how well this documentary tells its story of “the greatest sci-fi film never made.”
Chilean artist/writer/filmmaker/actor Alejandro Jodorowsky came to prominence in the early 1970s with surrealist, boundary-pushing films such as El Topo and The Holy Mountain. In 1975, he began a project that aimed to turn Frank Herbert’s epic novel Dune into something resembling an acid trip on film.
By all accounts, that film would have been awesome, so why didn’t we get it?
Director Frank Pavich answers that question in an interesting, entertaining way, wisely putting Jodorowsky himself front and center.
Jodorowsky is still energetic and ambitious at age 85, and you can’t help but buy into his vision. Even now, he bubbles with excitement when outlining his failed plans, which included offering Orson Welles his own on -set personal chef just so Welles would join the cast. Budgets were not much of a concern to Jodorowsky, and you begin to understand why the big film studios were a tad frightened.
Science fiction geeks and movie nerds will be in behind-the-scenes heaven, but the film also works on a mainstream level. It’s a compelling story of the creative process and the passion that drives it.
Pavich showcases Jodorowky’s “most interesting man”-style charisma, and surrounds it with the relevance needed to both entertain and satisfy. By the time Pavich offers concrete examples of how the original Dune storyboards continue to influence Hollywood, you’ll be sorry Jodorowsky’s Dune isn’t the opener of a nonexistent double feature.
Get more of my movie reviews at MaddWolf.com!
Photo credit: AP Photo/Lionsgate, JoJo Whilden