This is 40: A Fun Film About an Often Unfunny Milestone

This is 40 is a humorous spin off of director Judd Apatow ‘s 2007 classic Knocked Up.  While not as strong as its predecessor, 40 is still a fun follow up, with a robust set of memorable characters, and decidedly better than expected.

Premise: The long-awaited follow-up to Knocked up that follows familiar characters Pete and Debbie as they confront middle-age. Result: While not the instant classic that its predecessor was, this film is still well worth the screen time.

40 follows Pete (Paul Rudd) and Debbie (Leslie Mann) five years after we first met the loving but dysfunctional couple in Knocked Up.  Now, the film centers on their experiences, especially the mid-life crises and financial woes that plague them as they reach the epic milestone.

Pete is mired in financial troubles that ultimately force him to question his life choices.  His business failures seem to bring his fledging independent recording studio to the brink of doom: while he reps Graham Parker, fans seem allergic to his latest release and employees Ronnie (Chris O’Dowd) and Cat (Lena Dunham) can’t seem to offer anything more than excuses and punch lines.  And this situation is only exacerbated by his family life forcing him into permanent bathroom-escapist exile.

Debbie, on her end, refuses on principle to even admit that she is a day over 38 and for much of the film seems bent on destroying her husband with vegetarian meals and enough nagging to be considered for the Elderly Jewish Lady Hall of Fame. And despite working with familiar trainer Jason (Jason Segel) and best friend Barb (Annie Mumolo), nothing seems to improve her mood, especially as her financial troubles develop: Debbie is faced with uncomfortable confrontation when she discovers a thief at her store where the only possible suspects are beautiful Desi (Megan Fox) and strange freak-girl Jodi (Charlyne Yi).

Worse still, Sadie (Maude Apatow) is confronting a challenging milestone herself as she becomes a teen: challenging fro everyone else, of course. Complete with outbursts, tantrums and a searing hatred for sister Charlotte (Iris Apatow), Sadie finds her parents’ troubles as alien as their clothes, music or word choice.  And a strange relationship with Joseph (Ryan Lee) explodes into one of the more amusing conflicts when Debbie and Pete wage war with Joseph’s mother Catherine (Melissa McCarthy).

And even peripheral family members can’t help but swirl around them delivering a stream of confusion and bad news; whether it is Pete’s father Larry (Albert Brooks) and his own desperate financial situation or Debbie’s father Oliver (John Lithgow) and his sudden resurfacing after a previously shocking lack of presence in his daughter’s life.

Ultimately, Apatow has filled this film to the brim with competing plotlines that, at first, seem unoriginal and worse, by sheer volume, indigestible.  There’s a sense of foreboding as the film opens that audiences may be crushed by the weight of too much happening, and nothing happening that we haven’t heard before.

However, as the film progresses, the storylines converge and rather than expand the relative size of the film, this convergence texturizes the characters, providing depth that ultimately makes the film more engaging, blossoming its inherent uniqueness.  Even peripheral characters make splashes throughout the film in a variety of ways, helping to deliver not only laughs but very clear, deep messages about the true emotional toll that life presents and the need for love and belonging amidst the chaos.

The acting in the film is excellent throughout as Apatow effectively casts this film with vast comedic talent.  Rudd and Mann are veterans within and without these roles but still manage to make their characters appear fresh and new.

Brook and Lithgow are both expectedly wonderful.  While Brooks brings his veteran flare for a certain trademarked comedic melancholy, Lithgow is able to deliver a detached brilliance that make each line effortlessly hilarious.

Fox is perhaps the greatest surprise.  Her role initially seems as if it will go nowhere and she will once again be relegated to “pretty girl on screen”.  That is absolutely not the case; she is fantastic in her role, managing to deliver funny lines as well as a deep, interesting character we are attentive to for reasons not related to her appearance.

McCarthy, of course, while limited on screen never misses an opportunity to steal the show. The rest of the cast, including Siegel and O’Dowd deliver their atypical sense of comedy and charm that allows the film to feel both familiar yet also distinctive.

Overall, 40 is a fun, engaging film that maintains our interest in these unique characters while also allowing audiences to feel satisfied that they have seen enough.  This closure is a positive in a film genre (and Apatow is far from immune to this) that often over-stays its welcome; in fact, while the film as a whole is funny, there are more than enough jokes that fall flat.  Nevertheless, once 40 hits its stride, observers will be glad they came along for the ride.

Rating: 7 – A refreshing Champagne that a cute bartender comp’d you!

The Perks of Being a Wallflower: A Strong, if Limited, Look at the World Through the Eyes of Youth

With The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Writer Stephen Chbosky has adapted his acclaimed novel and directed a heart-wrenching narrative that explores the world through the eyes of a troubled teen.  This film, while still limited and ripe with shortcomings, manages to intricately describe the vivid, inadvertent madness of youth, as the world and its meaning shift like sand in the Sahara.

Premise: A troubled, shy freshman is befriends two seniors who welcome him to the real world. Result: A good memorable film that is beautiful and powerful while still somehow needing more work.

The adapted story follows Charlie (Logan Lerman) -a young boy with trouble fitting in- as he anonymously writes a series of letters to an unknown person, detailing his first year in High School.  Charlie is terrified of this change and his overly sensitive demeanor and debilitating shyness certainly do not make the transition any easier.  Oh, and his best friend Michael recently shot himself.

It is not long before he is targeted by bullies and made to feel even worse about himself; however, he does manage to meet two people on that first day: Patrick (Ezra Miller), a senior, and his English teacher, Mr. Anderson (Paul Rudd).

Both of these men, without realizing it, will have profound influence on Charlie, and the man he is to become.  But Charlie doesn’t know this yet and so when he returns home, he submits to melancholy around his Father (Dylan McDermott), Mother (Kate Walsh), and sister Candace (Nina Dobrev).

But the film does not linger on Charlie’s isolation for long, instead exploring a sudden relationship with Patrick and Sam (Emma Watson), two seniors who don’t seem troubled by Charlie’s freshman status or his odd quiet demeanor. They embrace him as if it were destiny and so the film takes on a very different tone suggesting a distinct message.  Rather than focus on the many, many things that detach Charlie from the world, the film emphasizes Charlie’s attempt to re-attach himself, to connect to others and to manage the emotions that have ruled him.

In this sense, Chbosky does a great job of using imagery and referents to describe this connection.  The ubiquitous mix tape serves as an intricate symbol of emotions that cannot be explained but instead must be experienced; each song serves to draw us closer to understanding those things we cannot explain, those moments where our minds seem to detach from reality.  And through the eyes of a teen, these moments are invaluable.

As the film progresses, there is significant growth as well as calamity.  Charlie is introduced to other friends like sweet, crazy Mary Elizabeth (Mae Whitman), Alice, and stoner Bob (Adam Hagenbuch). It is with these young men and women, these friends that Charlie begins to experience that much needed belonging, that sense that he is a part of something and that he can “participate” in the world, a feat previously though impossible.  He learns about drugs, drinking, kissing, homosexuality (Patrick is secretly dating the quarterback of the football team Brad (Johnny Simmons)), a tragic relationship, and even the infamous Rocky Horror Picture Show.

At the same time, Charlie experiences the world through the stories that others have written, reading an ever growing library of classic novels ranging from To Kill A Mockingbird, Walden, and Catcher in the Rye. And so the film tries to tell the story of connection, that inherent need for humans to feel a part of something greater, to experience an elevated truth.

It further attempts to describe this essential association by illustrating its absence through a tragic breakdown, a complete disassociation with reality that interweaves feelings of guilt, remorse, abuse and inexplicable damage.

Ultimately, the film misses opportunities.  While the intent is clear and there are some very clever techniques as well as generally strong storytelling to lay the foundation for the central message, the film doesn’t quite make the necessary links.

Instead of creating an empathetic relationship with the audience, the story is bogged down with details that forge loose sympathetic responses from observers: Charlie is sick, Charlie is strange, Charlie has residual trauma.  Chbosky makes it too easy for us to explain this person and his views away by blaming experiences that we likely do not share.  Rather than connect us to him, we feel bad for him.

Chbosky’s attempt to overcome this through the use of music and mixed tapes is a double-edged cinematic sword.  On the one hand, the metaphor helps viewers conceive of its impact and its emotional resonance; but on the other, Chbosky strangely feels the need to “talk” about music rather than “show” us.

Naturally, this is a film not an album, but there is surprisingly little impact delivered through the score and most of the songs are referenced but never heard (if licensing is an issue here, write a song or something). Rather than deliver that impact, Chobosky seems to be teaching a class on emotion and wants everyone to go and do homework and experience it for themselves, a surprising resignation of all auteurial responsibility.

Further, we also have a sort of odd melodrama as the characters ride in the car desperately longing for “that song” or proclaiming “we are infinite.”  What is this?  While the sentiment is clear, there is a necessary insistence on audience thought where Chbosky assumes by using the expression everyone will magically manifest profound epiphany, basking in its warm glow.

Frankly, the phrase comes dangerously close to pseudo-intellectual rather than profound.  It should be noted that even the book is somewhat limited in this regard; thus, rather than a simple failure of filmmaking, the concept may actually need more work (although, the book does explore this in more efficacious depth).

Fortunately, the performances manage to overcome some of these problems; through strong, sound delivery, the actors themselves prove interesting, nuanced and likable enough to have observers give them the benefit of the doubt.  Lerman, as the star, had to overcome his striking good looks to make us believe that he could ever “go unnoticed” anywhere.  But his understated charm, his deliberate expressions, his exasperation and his stunning control of some devastatingly emotional scenes makes his character real, believable, and memorable.

Watson, Miller and Whitman round out the friends audiences are likely to recall.  Watson delivers a sensible, complex performance as Sam, giving us a clear vision of who she is when even the character doesn’t seem to know.   Miller is wonderful, slithering languidly into his role as the confident yet vulnerable Patrick, struggling to survive in a sea of uncertainty.  Whitman for her part is devastatingly wonderful; she comes off as the frantic nut job she is meant to be, providing both vulnerability and authority, often in the same expression.

In the end, it should be noted that making sense of teen angst is an oft attempted, infrequently conquered endeavor.  While there are some shortcomings, some more painful than others, Chbosky does manage to deliver a powerful and memorable film.

The criticisms levied against his story should be taken as notes for future filmmakers who wish to accomplish this task, rather than cruel attempts to devastate his work.  Chbosky gives us a very good film that might have been great.  But for today, perfect might be the enemy of good, and when making sense of the world through the eyes of a troubled boy, that picture may be all we can hope for.

Rating: 7 – A refreshing Champagne that a cute bartender comp’d you!

Wanderlust: A Strange Experiment in Comedy Gone..eh, Just Sorta Wrong

The latest film from Director David Wain (Role Models) is the cinematic version of a comedic piñata: on the one hand there are several moments that are hilarious and comedic gold both for their unique spin on familiar circumstances and their effective use of a strong cast serving as the deliciously sweet brand name morsels our dentists love to hate.  On the other hand, there are countless overly-bizarre, thoroughly cringe-inducing moments littered liberally throughout the rest of the film that simply boggle the mind resembling those  rotten apples, razor blades, and a coffee-stained 1987 copy of Reader’s Digest featuring an abridged version of the failed Dolph Lundgren home improvement book, Whatever he Touches, He Destroys.

Premise: Rattled by sudden unemployment, a Manhattan couple surveys alternative living options, ultimately deciding to experiment with living on a rural commune where free love rules. Result: A comedy experiment that rests uneasily somewhere between somewhat funny, inconclusive and unwatchable.

The premise of this film rests on a couple that has gotten a raw end of the deal of life.  After a moderately humorous interaction with a realtor and the cautious purchase of the world’s smallest studio in Manhattan, the two find their lives unraveling: Linda (Jennifer Aniston) delivers one of the most awkward and poorly-received documentary pitches to some HBO executives since Kevin Costner pitched Dances with Pedophiles; and her husband George’s (Paul Rudd) bonus is put on hold after the firm is suddenly brought down on unnamed but clearly numerous fraud charges.

Out on the street and broke, George turns to the world’s worst human being slash brother Rick (Ken Marino) who is about as nurturing as a Mama Ann Coulter eating her snake young alive. On their journey from NYC to Atlanta to live with Satan himself, they accidentally stumble on a strange commune of even stranger people ranging from a nudist to the outright insane. However, on the fate-full night, the two grow closer, let go, and feel more alive than ever before.  When their visit with Rick and his wife Marissa (Michaela Watkins) turns out to be a hysterical, but short-lived disaster, the two flee in terror back to the commune.  And then, the true madness begins.

Essentially, the rest of the film follows two competing plotlines: George and Linda’s relationship as tested by the lunacy of the commune and the cliché “Save the Commune” storyline which does about as much as you would expect (note: as a reminder, you expected nothing). The main storyline, however, offers us that mixed bag of humor and horror referenced earlier: there are several laugh-out-loud moments that cannot be overlooked.  Of course there are more moments where sweet death cannot come soon enough.

Essentially, Wain’s style is to turn this film and its content into an absolute playground where anything goes…literally anything.  These people are so far off the deep end that the life guards have left them for drowned or eaten by fresh water pool sharks.  There is Wayne (Joe Lo Truglio),the nudist writing a pointless novel and producing his own wine; there is former porn-star, super bitch Karen (Kathryn Hahn); there is the too-much-acid-in-the-70s Carvin (Alan Alda), the creeping super-hippy Seth (Justin Theroux), the preggers lady Almond (Lauren Ambrose) and the list goes on and on. 

While Wain is able to squeeze some fresh new fun from this potentially stale formula, more often than not, audiences will long for the cliché. Time after time observers will be mortified with embarrassment for the characters on screen which does itself offer some of that trademark what passes for humor these days; however, far too frequently, there are gags which just don’t make any sense at all, based on completely odd-ball elements which are more confusing than anything else. 

Apparently, Wain’s objective is to fill every moment of this film with a joke.  Ultimately, most of them are either tired, not funny, or delivered to such extremes as to snuff out the comedy long before the bit is even over.  Like a comedy workshop gone awry, this film needed more editing, less eccentricity, and more Prozac.

The acting in the film, however, is of high quality, so if such an experiment were to be had, Wain, at least, armed himself with actors that could deliver.  Rudd and Aniston always have chemistry and both are quite fantastic in their roles.  While Rudd in particular suffers some at the hands of the script and the goofy antics, he and Aniston are very funny and very believable.  Theroux is typically quite funny and also manages to effectively communicate his intense desire for Anniston with only his eyes and body language, an impressive feat of control. 

Marino and Watkins are likely the most consistently hysterical characters in this film, grounded in the sad reality which is their absurd, sad, repressed lives, and never being forced to confront the Eden meets Narnia meets Circus Sideshow that is the commune.  Both deliver their lines perfectly and ensure that attention is always on them.  It would have been almost nicer to see a movie about them…or at least Watkins. 

Hahn, essentially reprising her role as the hippy-villainess in Our Idiot Brother, manages to make this character angrier and more annoying than even that endeavor. Of course, in her defense, that seems to be exactly what Wain intended. Alda, on the other hand, has taken a step back from his usual brilliance; his performance is a bit disappointing since it lacked the nuance and depth that he normally brings to roles.  Instead, audiences will gaze upon him, eyes-glazed, every time the script forces him to utter some line we forgot before it happened.

Overall, Wanderlust is 40-45% fun with the rest languishing somewhere between boring and unwatchable.  While it sometimes successfully pokes fun at Hippies, it tends to feel overly reductive and the characters seem more like caricatures. Fortunately, the funny parts (especially the scenes with Marino and Watkins) lift the movie just enough to keep it from feeling like a waste of time. And I will also applaud Wain for making a relatively unique film with a lot of experimental attempts in comedy; but a word of advice – audiences typically don’t like to feel like lab rats, especially when the cheese being offered tastes like “Huh?” and “I want my Money Back.”

Rating: 6 – A mediocre Prosecco that a cute bartender served you

Our Idiot Brother: The Dreadful Sound of the Painfully Unfunny

Director Jesse Peretz (The Ex) manages to cage audiences for all 90 excruciating minutes of this comedy that never quite connects.  Even with a remarkable cast, the concept of this film is far from funny and the plot ultimately causes more irritation than laughs.

Premise: A naive man-boy causes ripples in his family’s lives after he is forced to live with each of them.  Result: A generally unfunny, often cringe-inducing spectacle that manages to neutralize the good performances of its strong cast and make this difficult to stomach in almost every way.

The film opens with Ned (Paul Rudd) doing the unthinkable: with only minor coaxing, he manages to sell pot to a uniformed police officer.  It is therefore only within moments that the film establishes its fundamental premise: that Ned is an idiot; a painfully stupid person who manages to fall into every one of life’s little traps.

However, the flaw in this construct is that the film does not seem to understand the difference between being stupid and being naïve.  Often Ned is positioned as that adorable boy next door filled with hope and trust, just the formula we should in mix our lives with.  But even small children tend to understand what Ned cannot, that trust is a gift earned, not granted, and instead he just ends up causing continuous, painful calamity with everything he touches.

After several months, Ned emerges from prison none the wiser, and finds that his evil, hippy girlfriend, Janet (Kathryn Hahn), has replaced him with another stoned nincompoop, Billy (T.J. Miller). While these scenes do bring about a few broken smiles, overall, the hippy humor is from somewhere deep in space and like light from a far off star, it will take thousands of years to make an impact here on Earth.  While waiting, audiences may find distraction by trying to count the number of times Ned can shout of “Willie Nelson” the name of his dog, a storyline that receives inexplicable attention.

And so, with no place to stay, Ned returns to his mother’s home and communes with his three dysfunctional sisters, each of whom represent a different, yet equally sad female stereotype.  His mother Ilene (Shirley Knight) appears to be some type of functional alcoholic; his eldest sister Liz (Emily Mortimer), is some type of broken housewife too blind to see her husband’s affair (and that he is a di%k); his next sister, Miranda (Elizabeth Banks), a blossoming young journalist in NYC who is neurotic enough to destabilize atomic compounds; and finally Natalie (Zooey Deschanel), the sexually liberated but thoroughly confused youngest sister who manages to often come up as more clueless than her brother, the aforementioned idiot.

Ned descends upon them like a hurricane of honesty, destroying everything in his path.  As the film progresses, Ned manages to inadvertently do everything possible to destabilize his sisters in his never-ending quest to make enough money to rent the goat barn behind his ex-girlfriend’s farm (dare to dream there Ned!)  Of course, because he is cute and cuddly, all his actions and their consequences only serve to point out just how remarkably troubling his family’s lives really are.

In record time, he is able to pull apart Liz’s marriage, possibly destroy Miranda’s career, threaten Nat’s relationship and land himself back in jail by telling his parole officer he had been smoking pot.  But like the unity that comes in a great storm’s aftermath, audiences are asked to understand that despite what seems like chaos, Ned’s antics have actually made their lives better by confronting the troubles they had previously refused to see. And naturally, in a world of trust and love, everything work out for the best. J Unfortunately, if asked, most survivors of catastrophe might point out they’d been better off if it hadn’t happened to them at all.

Unfortunately, the clichéd underlying premise and a generally unfunny, and often painfully awkward, plot will likely leave audiences wanting less. While Rudd and the rest of the cast do a good job in their roles and create relatively nuanced characters, the film fails to take hold in most important ways.  Instead, we are left with a film that wasn’t bad, but in the end, was much closer to stupid than it would have liked.

Rating: 5 – A luke-warm Pinot Grigio