If there was one thing that struck me as I left the cinema after seeing the sublime Bridesmaids, it was "Thank god, finally a film that really depicts female friendship". Finally a film that shows how women interact with one another in real life.
Not "Phew, I guess women are funny after all!" or "That was just as good as The Hangover!". Rather, it was a sense of vindication, after years of confusion at being presented with films that purported to depict female relationships but instead provided nightmarish parades of cliche and caricature where everything could be solved by a last-minute sprint through an airport and any emotion can best be expressed through a montage.
Are those days over now that Bridesmaids exists? Probably not - have you seen the trailer for The Vow? - but my god, what a respite.
Annie (Kristen Wiig) is flailing through life: she's single, save for regular hook-ups with an uncaring douche (played with unbridled sleazy glee by Jon Hamm), her small business has gone under, and she lives with a pair of creepy roommates (Matt Lucas and Rebel Wilson).
So the chance to be her best friend Lillian's (Maya Rudolph) maid of honour should be a welcome diversion, right? Wrong, and Annie quickly finds herself up the bridal industry shit creek without a paddle. (And, in one of the more memorable additions to the gross-out humour pantheon, with the shits in an uptight bridal salon without a toilet.)
She's joined on this downward spiral by the other bridesmaids: Lillian's unhappily married cousin Rita (Wendy McLendon-Covey), Disney Princess-mad Becca (Ellie Kemper), the groom's sister Meghan (Melissa McCarthy) and, most threatening of all, Lillian's new - and very rich - friend Helen (Rose Byrne).
Annie soon finds herself competing for Lillian's friendship, in the face of ever more extravagant gestures by Helen, as her own world crumbles around her.
As Annie's life becomes more fraught, she lashes out in a way that is regrettable but instantly recognisable to anyone who has every said something they wish they could instantly take back. It's a big risk for Wiig, who must frequently teeter on the bring of unlikeable, but she pulls it off effortlessly.
Unlike so many comedies that are ensemble in name only, Bridesmaids' cast is a powerhouse. Wiig and Rudolph's shared comic past serves their interactions well, though it's Annie and Lillian's more muted moments that allow the two actresses to shine. McCarthy's Megan is a brilliant comic creation (don't be fooled by trailers that paint her as little more than the "gross fat chick"), and Byrne finds the bruised soul of Helen, who makes grand gestures only because she doesn't know how else to make friends (a brief interaction with her step-children, who clearly hate her, is as stinging as it is funny).
The blokes are well-repped, too: Chris O'Dowd (from The I.T. Crowd) is lovely as a hangdog police officer who falls for Annie, and the uncredited Hamm is a hoot as the outrageously awful Ted. (Tim Heidecker maniacally beams his way through a non-speaking role as Lillian's betrothed, Dougie.)
What's especially striking about the film, though, is not the breakneck speed at which it unloads comedy gold, but its heart.
You see, Bridesmaids is hysterically funny, but it is also terrifically moving; Paul Feig's deft, sympathetic touch as director meshes beautifully with Wiig and Annie Mumolo's script (with all guided by the godlike hand of producer Judd Apatow, who is a natural heir to The Farrely Brothers' crown as sentimental fools).
A scene in which Megan visits Annie, who has been hiding out at her mother's house after disgracing herself, is particularly poignant, thanks in no small part to McCarthy's appealing performance as the wise, self-assured Megan. Annie, drifting into a self-indulgent maw, bemoans her lack of friends, to which Meghan forthrightly responds, "I'm your friend", snapping her out of it. It's a lovely moment.
Bridesmaids is that rare sort of comedic triumph that is never content to rest on its laurels: the characters are multifaceted, even occasionally unpleasant, which only makes you love them more. It has a breezy quality that makes its moments of emotional depth all the more special. There is no "bad guy" in Bridesmaids; everyone is thrashing around the same as the rest, just trying to work out how to live.
It also made me laugh so much I had a coughing fit and saw stars - and I can't remember the last time a film of any "gender" made me do that.
- Five stars
Not "Phew, I guess women are funny after all!" or "That was just as good as The Hangover!". Rather, it was a sense of vindication, after years of confusion at being presented with films that purported to depict female relationships but instead provided nightmarish parades of cliche and caricature where everything could be solved by a last-minute sprint through an airport and any emotion can best be expressed through a montage.
Are those days over now that Bridesmaids exists? Probably not - have you seen the trailer for The Vow? - but my god, what a respite.
Annie (Kristen Wiig) is flailing through life: she's single, save for regular hook-ups with an uncaring douche (played with unbridled sleazy glee by Jon Hamm), her small business has gone under, and she lives with a pair of creepy roommates (Matt Lucas and Rebel Wilson).
So the chance to be her best friend Lillian's (Maya Rudolph) maid of honour should be a welcome diversion, right? Wrong, and Annie quickly finds herself up the bridal industry shit creek without a paddle. (And, in one of the more memorable additions to the gross-out humour pantheon, with the shits in an uptight bridal salon without a toilet.)
She's joined on this downward spiral by the other bridesmaids: Lillian's unhappily married cousin Rita (Wendy McLendon-Covey), Disney Princess-mad Becca (Ellie Kemper), the groom's sister Meghan (Melissa McCarthy) and, most threatening of all, Lillian's new - and very rich - friend Helen (Rose Byrne).
Annie soon finds herself competing for Lillian's friendship, in the face of ever more extravagant gestures by Helen, as her own world crumbles around her.
As Annie's life becomes more fraught, she lashes out in a way that is regrettable but instantly recognisable to anyone who has every said something they wish they could instantly take back. It's a big risk for Wiig, who must frequently teeter on the bring of unlikeable, but she pulls it off effortlessly.
Unlike so many comedies that are ensemble in name only, Bridesmaids' cast is a powerhouse. Wiig and Rudolph's shared comic past serves their interactions well, though it's Annie and Lillian's more muted moments that allow the two actresses to shine. McCarthy's Megan is a brilliant comic creation (don't be fooled by trailers that paint her as little more than the "gross fat chick"), and Byrne finds the bruised soul of Helen, who makes grand gestures only because she doesn't know how else to make friends (a brief interaction with her step-children, who clearly hate her, is as stinging as it is funny).
The blokes are well-repped, too: Chris O'Dowd (from The I.T. Crowd) is lovely as a hangdog police officer who falls for Annie, and the uncredited Hamm is a hoot as the outrageously awful Ted. (Tim Heidecker maniacally beams his way through a non-speaking role as Lillian's betrothed, Dougie.)
What's especially striking about the film, though, is not the breakneck speed at which it unloads comedy gold, but its heart.
You see, Bridesmaids is hysterically funny, but it is also terrifically moving; Paul Feig's deft, sympathetic touch as director meshes beautifully with Wiig and Annie Mumolo's script (with all guided by the godlike hand of producer Judd Apatow, who is a natural heir to The Farrely Brothers' crown as sentimental fools).
A scene in which Megan visits Annie, who has been hiding out at her mother's house after disgracing herself, is particularly poignant, thanks in no small part to McCarthy's appealing performance as the wise, self-assured Megan. Annie, drifting into a self-indulgent maw, bemoans her lack of friends, to which Meghan forthrightly responds, "I'm your friend", snapping her out of it. It's a lovely moment.
Bridesmaids is that rare sort of comedic triumph that is never content to rest on its laurels: the characters are multifaceted, even occasionally unpleasant, which only makes you love them more. It has a breezy quality that makes its moments of emotional depth all the more special. There is no "bad guy" in Bridesmaids; everyone is thrashing around the same as the rest, just trying to work out how to live.
It also made me laugh so much I had a coughing fit and saw stars - and I can't remember the last time a film of any "gender" made me do that.
- Five stars
Source: The Vine
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