July 4, 2011
A very much more interesting and well-written movie than the trailer would lead you to suppose. The trailer clearly wants you to think of Bridesmaids as a hilarious gross-out comedy, the female equivalent of The Hangover.
I can't say there isn't a lot of gross stuff in there and much of it is very funny, but it's woven in with an achingly poignant tale of a woman whose life is really going down the toilet and who is struggling to present herself to her friends and peers as a reasonably successful person. This is the comedy of pain, sort of like watching a Kafka novel, and it is at times excruciating, as when Annie receives a booty call from her commitment-phobic not-boyfriend, who then proceeds to treat her to several hours of selfish, yodelling, self-congratulatory sex and doesn't want her to sleep over ('Aw, I feel bad now because, you know, I really want you to leave, but I feel such a dick for saying it').
Annie claims that this 'relationship' is fun, but clearly it isn't - her wounded, haunted little face in repose expresses clearly her sharp disappointment with the way things have turned out, as does her hilarious sales technique in the jewellers where she works.
Into this vignette of unacknowledged grief comes the news that Annie has been chosen by her best friend Lillian to be maid of honour at her upcoming wedding - something that in the contemporary US is a very serious commitment - and her performance is to be monitored hawkishly by Lillian's new bff, who is prettier, younger, richer than Annie. Cue some very sharply observed comedy of manners on the subject of competitive friendship and familial relations. Quite brilliant in many ways and not for once marred by a gakky sentimental ending.
I can't say there isn't a lot of gross stuff in there and much of it is very funny, but it's woven in with an achingly poignant tale of a woman whose life is really going down the toilet and who is struggling to present herself to her friends and peers as a reasonably successful person. This is the comedy of pain, sort of like watching a Kafka novel, and it is at times excruciating, as when Annie receives a booty call from her commitment-phobic not-boyfriend, who then proceeds to treat her to several hours of selfish, yodelling, self-congratulatory sex and doesn't want her to sleep over ('Aw, I feel bad now because, you know, I really want you to leave, but I feel such a dick for saying it').
Annie claims that this 'relationship' is fun, but clearly it isn't - her wounded, haunted little face in repose expresses clearly her sharp disappointment with the way things have turned out, as does her hilarious sales technique in the jewellers where she works.
Into this vignette of unacknowledged grief comes the news that Annie has been chosen by her best friend Lillian to be maid of honour at her upcoming wedding - something that in the contemporary US is a very serious commitment - and her performance is to be monitored hawkishly by Lillian's new bff, who is prettier, younger, richer than Annie. Cue some very sharply observed comedy of manners on the subject of competitive friendship and familial relations. Quite brilliant in many ways and not for once marred by a gakky sentimental ending.