Life of the Party: Out of control

Life of the Party (2018) • View trailer 
2.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for sexual candor, drug content and blue humor
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.11.18

This is a mildly amusing, occasionally endearing 30-minute movie.

Unfortunately, it runs 105 minutes.

Deanna (Melissa McCarthy, with paddle) is delighted when her daughter's sorority sisters
enthusiastically accept her as a member.

At its core, this story has a nifty message of empowerment, seizing the day, and making lemonade when life extends only lemons. (Or the other way around, as one of these characters insists.) It’s a solid premise: Unexpectedly divorced, middle-aged woman returns to college in order to earn the degree she was one short year from obtaining. 

That she happens to choose the university where her daughter is beginning her senior year, clearly adds to the comedic potential. Not a bad start.

Unfortunately, star Melissa McCarthy too frequently clutters up the film with her tediously unfunny shtick. Ergo, school’s out.

Just like the aforementioned young woman who mixes up the lemons/lemonade proverb, McCarthy clearly misunderstood one of filmmaking’s golden rules: that less is more. She seems to believe that more is more, when in fact — as becomes blindingly obvious on numerous occasions, as this flick stumbles its way to end of term — more is much, much less.

McCarthy takes a leaden one-liner — or an embarrassing calamity such as flop sweat, or an ancient, been-there-tired-of-that gag such as marijuana-induced giggles — and repeats it until we scream for mercy. Apparently (perceptively) concerned that the bit isn’t that funny to begin with, she beats it into submission, under the misguided assumption that reiteration confers hilarity.

It does not. It confers eye-rolling exasperation.

That’s the frequent reaction to this film. Every time McCarthy and director Ben Falcone bring us to a reasonably happy place — a point where we think, well, maybe this won’t be so awful — she stages another of her seemingly desperate bids for chuckles, thereby bringing everything to a dead stop.

She’s like a little kid: Looka me! Looka me! Looka me!

She and real-life husband Falcone have collaborated on three films now: He directs; she stars; they share scripting credit. Given that their previous partnerships have yielded 2014’s Tammy and 2016’s The Boss — both blindingly gawdawful flops — you’d think Warner Bros. would have thought long and hard, before granting them a third time at bat.

Because while it’s true Life of the Party is somewhat better than those stinkers, that’s damning with awfully faint praise.

Our story begins as longtime dedicated housewife Deanna (McCarthy) and her husband Dan (Matt Walsh) drop off their daughter Maddie (Molly Gordon), to begin her final year at Decatur University. Dan, a master of good timing, chooses that moment to confess that he’s leaving Deanna for the younger Marcie (Julie Bowen), who happens to be the Realtor handling the equally unexpected sale of their house: the proceeds from which Dan does not intend to share.

One needs to skip over half a dozen legal red flags that pop up at about this moment, but let’s move on. After all, it’s a comedy. They don’t need to make sense ... at least, not according to lazy, sloppy scripters.

Unwilling to allow this crisis to define the rest of her life, Deanna decides to buckle down and complete the archaeology degree that she went without, back when she married Dan and was pregnant with Maddie. The latter, understandably, is not wild about this idea at first, but — to her credit — comes around reasonably quickly. Particularly since her sorority sisters think Deanna — quickly nicknamed “Dee-Rock,” for no particular reason — is an adorable, nurturing font of wisdom.

These other young women are a hoot: most notably Gillian Jacobs, as the slightly older and ferociously protective Helen, nicknamed “Coma Girl” because she lost eight years following an accident. Her sly, frequently raised eyebrows, bewildered double-takes and mischievous grins are a lot more amusing than anything McCarthy uncorks. Jacobs is particularly fun to watch when she’s in the background: not quite stealing focus, but certainly giving it a shot.

Jessie Ennis is rather sweet as the under-confident Debbie, forever raising her hand to ask if she can ask a question. The drop-dead gorgeous Adria Arjona is a bit hard to believe as the supposedly shy and insecure Amanda, but it’s a nice archetype to throw into the mix. Debby Ryan and Yani Simone are appropriately bitchy as Jennifer and Trina, Decatur U’s overly self-assured “mean girls.”

Heidi Gardner is a stitch as Deanna’s dorm mate Leonor: a quiet, stealthy Goth-hued gal who eschews sunlight and never leaves their room. (Given that they lack an en suite bathroom, this raises another rather obvious question, probably best left alone.)

Luke Benward has the most intriguing role, as Decatur U senior and frat guy Jack, who — rather unexpectedly — falls heads over heels for the (much) older Deanna. His is the best-conceived character in the film, mostly because Benward enthusiastically plays the part as if Luke’s infatuation is the most natural thing in the world.

Even if it’s a wish-fulfillment gift from scripter McCarthy to her acting self, it’s a great plot sidebar that moves in delightfully unexpected directions.

The usually dependable Maya Rudolph is wasted as Deanna’s best friend Christine, mostly because she apparently was instructed — by Falcone — to overact as broadly and noisily as McCarthy. Rudolph quickly becomes an overly shrill shrike, robbing all comic potential from her presence as a similarly discontented middle-aged woman now attempting to re-live her youth vicariously, via Deanna.

Clearly, we have a solid ensemble cast: All the elements are in place for what should have been a far more satisfying comedy. But it constantly runs aground on the shoals of McCarthy’s overweening ego, and here’s the brutal truth: She’s nowhere near being the most interesting character in this film.

Factor in some massively clumsy stumbles — most notably an unforgivably destructive act of vengeance against an innocent wedding reception tableau, from which the film never recovers — and the result ain’t pretty.

McCarthy’s Deanna may have a shot at earning her degree, but this flick has no hope of graduating.