Not Another Superhero Movie: Bridesmaids

In 2007, my friend and I stood up in the wedding the woman who'd been the third of our college Three Musketeers.  We'd been asked nearly two years prior.  Having not been in a wedding since I was eleven years old, I had little to no idea of what I was getting into.

Ah, bridesmaid-ism.  You never forget your first time.

I was fortunate, in that the bride was absolutely wonderful (and I'm not just saying this because she reads my blog).  She was conscious of everyone's body types and budgets, both of which varied greatly from woman to woman.  She let us wear our own shoes (mine were $12 numbers from Payless) and enlisted me to help pick out her wedding shoes (which, unlike throwing bachelorette parties or showers, was something I was comfortable with).  She also gave each bridesmaid a really nice gift, which I still use four years later.  Bride win!

Still, I became intrigued by bridesmaid culture, fascinated by those who had way worse (and more expensive) experiences than my own.  As my broke-ass roommate and I somehow got the We channel, I avidly watched Bridezillas (oh, the screeching!  oh, the judgmental rhyming narrator!  oh, the old-school theme where the bride breathed fire!).  I was fascinated, not just by the harpy brides, but their equally crazy attendants.  What is it about a wedding where spending exorbitant amounts of money and treating your nearest and dearest like dog poo suddenly becomes not only acceptable, but expected?

I have never seen a movie that captures the insanity--not to mention the class warfare, friendship dynamics, and life uncertainty--as skillfully and hilariously as Bridesmaids.

Annie (the phenomenal Kristen Wiig, who also co-wrote the film) is in a slump.  Her bakery business collapsed due to the economy, and now she's stuck in a dead-end job at a jewelry store while sharing a crappy apartment (genuinely crappy, not movie crappy aka still nicer than my apartment) with two odd roommates.  Oh, and her friend-with-benefits Ted (Jon Hamm: yes ladies, he's naked) doesn't like it when she spends the night.  When Annie's best friend Lillian (Maya Rudolph, who really should have a better career) announces her engagement and asks Annie to be her maid of honor, Annie's confronted with financial concerns, life questioning, and the other bridesmaids, who range from Disneyphile newlywed (Ellie Kemper) to desperate housewife (Wendi McLendon-Covey) to just plain weird (Melissa McCarthy) to "I'm a more awesome friend than you" one-upper (Rose Byrne).

Can I just say how all the articles expressing surprise that Bridesmaids is doing so well at the box office just kiiiill me.  Everyone is SO surprised that women who aren't named Tina Fey can actually be funny.  That Yet Another Silly Wedding Movie is raking in almost as much buckage as the latest dumb superhero popcorn flick.  (Don't get me wrong, I love a good superhero movie.  What I don't love is when every other damn new release is about superheroes.)  That--gasp!--both women AND men are turning out in droves and really enjoying themselves.

Well, Hollywood, this is what happens when you greenlight a movie that's actually good.

Because all hilarity and hijinks aside, Bridesmaids is a solid film.  Everything from the Milwaukee setting to the actual wrinkles (!) on the thirtysomething actors to the re-enacting of 90's pop songs (I don't know about you, but I have some sort of dorky dance inside joke with most of my friends) feels genuine and straight out of real life.  Sure, some sequences of defiling expensive gowns and bad reactions to prescription drugs on airplanes are over-the-top, but they're balanced out by scenes dealing with class warfare, dreams deferred, and jealousy of new friends.  There's an early scene, largely improvised by Wiig and Rudolph, where Annie and Lillian are having brunch, which so accurately captures close friends catching up that I felt like I was watching a re-enactment of brunch with any one of my pals.

Just...see this movie.  If you've ever been in a wedding, see this movie.  If you've ever played the comparison game (money, relationships, what have you) with others in your peer group, see this movie.  If you've ever dealt with how a friendship has changed over time, see this movie.  If you want to see the funny overweight lady stereotype turned on its ear, see this movie.  If you like to watch really darling Irishmen be really darling (Chris O'Dowd, I loved you on The IT Crowd and I love you now--I'm single!), see this movie.  If you want to laugh and laugh and laugh while also wanting to cry a little, see this movie.

If you're like me and you're sick of bad comic-book adaptations and silly rom-coms with Katherine Heigl, see this movie.

Just see this movie.

Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing, Mama: Away We Go

There is nothing more annoying than knowing you're being marketed to.



I can picture the pitch in L.A.: it's a love story, but the couple is QUIRKY! They're not married, BUT she's pregnant! The guy is WACKY! He pretends to be Casey Kasem, but he SELLS INSURANCE so it's IRONIC! Let's throw in some BLACK-FRAMED GLASSES, ALTERNATIVE MUSIC, and ROAD-TRIP HIJINKS and we'll have MOVIES WHITE PEOPLE LIKE! The hipsters will EAT THIS SHIT UP!



And despite it all, I did. Stupid movie wouldn't LET me hate it.



Short summary: John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph play Burt and Verona, an insurance salesman and a freelance illustrator who live and love in a Colorado shack (not much of an exaggeration). She's preggers, he's over the moon about it. There's only one problem: his parents (the always-wonderful Jeff Daniels and Catherine O'Hara), basically the reason they moved from Chicago to Colorado, will be moving to Europe shortly before the baby is due. So Burt and Verona make a decision: they'll trek around the continental U.S. for a place they can call home.



From Phoenix to Tucson to Milwaukee to Montreal, Burt and Verona encounter old work buddies with absolutely no filters (Alison Janney, whose hysterical performance made me really start enjoying the film), annoying trustafarians (Maggie Gyllenhaal and Josh Hamilton), and their settled college friends (Chris Messina and Melanie Lynskey), whose boisterous, diverse family is not without its darkness. Burt and Verona also confront their own family issues: Verona's parents died when she was in college, and her sister doesn't think she has properly grieved. Burt, meanwhile, must unexpectedly take Verona to Miami when his brother is suddenly left a single parent--bursting Burt's delighted dad-to-be bubble and frightening him with the infinite potential of familial disaster.



In a lesser movie--perhaps one not co-written by Dave Eggers (people love or hate the guy--I fall into the former category)--Burt and Verona would be the passive characters, letting all these characters happen to them. They'd be overshadowed by the sheer nuttiness of the common misconception that Verona is nine months along (she's six), parents who are for dual breastfeeding and against strollers, and eleven-year-old girls loudly referred to as "baby dykes" by their own mothers. For a while--especially after the brilliant Allison Janney showed up and I nearly peed myself with laughter--I thought this was exactly what would happen.



I was wrong. Burt and Verona are a lovely, balanced couple who are perpetually bemused by the weirdness of the outside world. Their complementing personalities serve them well: he's perpetually excited, a Manic Pixie Dream Boy without the mental illness. She's quieter, more watchful, at times resigned. As Alexi Murdoch (reminiscent of the late great Nick Drake) croons on the soundtrack, it's the two of them against the world--and they're okay with that. They're aware of their own weirdness: the fact that they don't need anyone but each other to get by. It's not their relationship that's the issue, ever: it's the question of where they, and their unborn little girl, will best live out each precious day.





Yeah, I know, it sounds wildly barfy. But stay with me here. Two words: Maya. Rudolph. Sure, she always made me laugh on Saturday Night Live, and she gave a sweet, subtle performance in A Prairie Home Companion. (Then again, so did Lindsay Lohan. Oh, Lohan. But that's another post.) Watching her in this film, I was reminded of how Tom Hanks, he of two Academy Awards and all things grave and intense, started out as a comedian. A sitcom actor whom no one took seriously--he did Bosom Buddies, for God's sake. Until the early nineties, when the lighthearted funnyman blew everyone away with just how tear-jerkingly astonishing he could be.



Maya Rudolph is 2009's Tom Hanks.



Her Verona is tentative, sardonic, and luminous all at once. While Burt insists he wants their child to cobble (he really means whittle), and falls over outdoor hotel structures, Verona is there to gently guide him back into the real world. He'd be at loose ends without her, and he knows it (smart guy). But Verona never takes Burt for granted, either--his genuine goofiness often eases her troubled mind and keeps her from being too pissed off when yet another clueless individual mistakes her for nine months pregnant. And if her beautiful bedtime lullaby to Burt's young niece is any indication, she will be a wonderful mother.


(In case you're wondering about John Krasinski, he too does a nice job. I could swear there's at least one moment where he is straining to not look into the camera Jim Halpert-style, but that could just be my Office fan paranoia. John Krasinski is like Michael Cera: he plays himself, and he does it well. As long as he chooses the right roles, that is just fine by me. Not every actor has to be Marlon Brando.)
For standing out in a phenomenal supporting cast, the Give This Actor a Movie Now! Award goes to Chris Messina, who you may remember as Random Dude Friend of Patrick Dempsey #3 in Made of Honor or more notably as Ted, Claire's kind lawyer boyfriend, on Six Feet Under. Messina only appears in a few scenes, but makes every line count in his skillful portrayal of a happy, yet haunted, husband and father. Have your Kleenex handy for his late-night diner speech about what truly makes a home, enacted with some very unique props--quite possibly the most moving moment in the film.


In short, did Away We Go annoy me? Sometimes. Was it perfect? Nope. Were there scenes where it tried way too hard? Yup. Did I feel as if I were being marketed to? Absomalutely.


Am I still pondering it a week later, and frantically searching my schedule to fit in a second viewing?


Yes. Yes, I am.