Four stars. Rated R, for profanity, sexual candor and brief drug content
By Derrick Bang
We’ve often heard that artists suffer for their work.
Jillian Bell suffered more than most.
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| When Brittany (Jillian Bell) enters her first actual race, she winds up pacing Seth (Micah Stock), who quickly becomes her comrade-in-agony. |
She pulled a Christian Bale before and during the filming of Brittany Runs a Marathon, which is highlighted by her effervescent — and, at times, quite brave — performance in the title role. (Bale notoriously dropped 63 pounds when he made 2004’s The Machinist.)
Writer/director Paul Downs Colaizzo’s indie charmer is the sort of “modest” film that rewards discovery, and deserves to be enjoyed by as wide an audience as possible. The icing on an already delectable cake: It’s based on a real-world woman’s actual journey of self-discovery and accomplishment.
As much as Bell owns this film, she’s surrounded by a wealth of engaging supporting characters, all brought to captivating life by an equally talented ensemble cast. Their diverse personalities are thoughtfully constructed; the resulting duo and group dynamics are spot-on; and Colaizzo’s script drops plenty of hilarious one-liners without making these individuals seem any less real-world.
That’s a neat trick.
On top of which, Colaizzo inserts some perceptive — and desperately needed — jabs at the too-frequently-cruel narcissism of the social media generation.
New York-based Brittany Forgler (Bell), 27 and feeling more like 37, has lost control. Her life — hard partying, chronic under-employment and ghastly “relationships” — is the stuff of an immature high school or college student, with no thought of adult responsibility. And, yes; she has let herself go physically, and it’s catching up with her.
All of which has become a serious concern to her older sister, Cici (Kate Arrington), and brother-in-law, Demetrius (Lil Rel Howery), who essentially raised Brittany following a nasty parental divorce. But sibling disapproval isn’t sufficient; Brittany isn’t brought up short until she tries to score some prescription Adderall, and instead gets a gentle reprimand from her doctor (Patch Darragh, in a brief but telling role).
The message: Get healthy. Before the downward spiral becomes dire.
That’s a tall order, in part because Brittany’s roommate, Gretchen (Alice Lee), constantly encourages bar all-nighters. We immediately sense the back-story: Brittany has accepted this, because tagging along has granted her something akin to a life. But Gretchen is no friend; she’s a toxic social media monster who apparently believes she scores bonus points for being “kind” to her “fat and hopeless roommate.”
Lee shades this role quite cunningly. At first blush, she’s a vain, condescending shrew with virtually no redeeming qualities. But as the story progresses, it becomes clear that Gretchen is just as insecure and lost, if in an entirely different way; she has no concept of how to connect with people. (Mind you, that doesn’t make her sympathetic. She’s still a subtly spiteful, grade-A bitch.)
The potential for salvation arrives from an entirely unexpected quarter: via preppy downstairs neighbor Catherine (Michaela Watkins), who for several years has been regarded with scorn by Brittany and Gretchen. Catherine apparently has tolerated these neighbors from hell with forbearance, and she’s too good a person — one day — to ignore the wracking sobs of Brittany’s unspoken call for help.
I’ve always loved this dynamic, when well executed: the sidebar character who appears to be an antagonist, of sorts, but who then blossoms into a compassionate and sympathetic friend. All concerned here navigate this transition very well.
Catherine, a habitual jogger, encourages Brittany to give it a try; the latter is horrified by the mere thought. But when she can’t stand what she sees in the mirror one day, resolve overcomes reluctance. And so she jogs. For one block. And it nearly kills her.
We laugh at this sequence — definitely with Brittany, and not at her — because Bell has won our hearts, and also because we’ve all been there. Anybody who has spontaneously embraced exercise of any form, knows the initial uphill struggle. Goodness, anybody who has maintained exercise knows that the desire to quit never fades completely.
Turns out Catherine isn’t jogging merely for the hell of it; she has her own demons to keep at bay. As with everybody else here, her personality has many layers.
More to the point, Catherine is determined to run in the next New York City Marathon. This impossible notion proves enticing to Brittany, who views it as something to work toward, to train for, to accomplish. She and Catherine rope in novice runner Seth (Micah Stock), who amiably agrees to join them.
But exercise is only half the equation; Brittany also vows to lose weight, which means serious compromises on food and alcohol. Gretchen, an enabler on top of her other failings, can’t understand — can not understand — why her wing gal is no longer willing to “have fun.” At which point, Gretchen’s true colors emerge … and boy, that’s painful.
At the same time, Brittany tries to take better control of her finances; that means getting another job on top of her flimsy part-time position as ticket-taker for a small theater. She stumbles her way into employment as the daytime house-and-dog sitter in a luxurious Manhattan home, where she soon meets nighttime colleague Jern (Utkarsh Ambudkar). But he isn’t merely watching the house and dog after hours; he’s living in the place.
Ambudkar’s handling of this man-child is sublime. At first blush, he seems present merely to drop as many self-defensive one-liners as Brittany, but that soon shifts in several delectable directions. He’s as insightful as Catherine and Seth, and — in time — just as willing to become a member of Team Brittany.
(“He’s in his mid-30s, and protecting the idea that he’s capable of achieving great success by not doing anything,” Colaizzo explains, in the press notes. “This way, he shields his fragile ego by avoiding failure.”)
The hardest part of this story — which is to say, the detail portrayed so persuasively by Bell and Colaizzo’s script — is that Brittany is her own worst enemy. She’s so convinced of her own worthlessness, that she resents the notion of being helped by anybody; she refuses to be an object of “pity.” This dynamic surfaces repeatedly, and it’s always heartbreaking.
Indeed, at times Brittany’s self-defensive posture occasionally slides into dismissive scorn, at a level that becomes as cruel as anything Gretchen says or does. A gathering to celebrate Demetrius’ 41st birthday is particularly hard to watch, and I’d argue that Colaizzo goes too far, in this one case; I simply don’t believe that Brittany would erupt in such a nasty fashion. The scene doesn’t work (although the subsequent, quieter, come-to-Jesus admonishment from Demetrius puts things back on track).
As a minor aside, it’s distracting that Arrington and Howery, whose characters are intended to be at least a decade older than Brittany, look to be exactly the same age as Bell.
All these various character dynamics and interactions notwithstanding — and, mind you, they’re all delightful, persuasive and at times painfully candid — Colaizzo never loses sight of Brittany’s primary goal. We sympathize and ache when she succumbs to the temptation of a hamburger. We cheer the moment when she can complete an actual race, and each time she steps on a scale and finds a more promising number.
(Bell lost 29 pounds prior to filming, and dropped another 11 during the shoot. The actual Brittany — Brittany O’Neill — shed 80 pounds during the 2-1/2 years she and Colaizzo were roommates.)
And I love the messages that run throughout this struggle, starting with the big one: It’s not about winning, it’s about participating and finishing … not matter how long it takes.
Then there’s the subtler stuff, revolving around silent body-shaming. The notion that people won’t hold the door for an overweight woman trying to catch the subway. The notion that men don’t watch the coarseness of their language in the presence of an overweight woman, because they don’t regard her as “having potential.” And so on.
There’s a lot to digest in this “little” film, which is richly entertaining to boot.
That doesn’t happen often.
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