This is a modestly entertaining rom-com fantasy … when it gets out of its own way.
Actress-turned-first-time-director Katie Aselton tries much too hard at times, particularly during an off-putting first act that smacks of desperation. She tolerates the over-acting and breathlessly exaggerated line deliveries that suggest she and the cast don’t entirely trust Madeline Walter and Paul Welsh’s script.
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| "Aunt Rita" (Diane Keaton, center), encouraged by the younger self within her old body, attempts to make the most of a group exercise session |
Things improve as the tone settles down, and the story establishes its identity. By the final act, the actors have settled into their roles; the characters have grown on us, and the conclusion — although blatantly obvious throughout — is rather sweet.
Fledgling author Mack (Elizabeth Lail), with one published book under her belt, struggles — under the “guidance” of her smug and condescending agent (Patti Harrison, thoroughly obnoxious) — to generate “content” for a social media realm of influencers and “likes.” And she wonders: Is this really writing? (Answer: Of course not.)
The situation is worsened by Mack’s inherent nature; she’s an “old soul” in a young body, having been raised by a grandmother who encouraged her interest in retro clothes and genteel manners. None of this is appropriate behavior or attire for the wedding plans being made for longtime best friend Carla (Taylour Paige), who has arranged a “gal pal” weekend Palm Springs retreat with party-hearty posse buddies Sunita (Aimee Carrero) and Ali (Addie Weyrich).
Aselton obviously encouraged Carrero and Weyrich to be as aggressively unpleasant as possible: a challenge they embrace with enthusiasm. One wonders: Are they supposed to be funny? If so, they miss by a mile.
Worn down by too much drinking and clubbing, Mack opts out of a flash concert, choosing instead to investigate the offer of spiritual relaxation in a tent set up in an otherwise vacant lot. (You gotta just roll with this.) Much like Doctor Who’s TARDIS, this tent is much larger on the inside; Mack cheerfully parts with her credit card in order to embrace her true inner self in a “regression pod” that looks suspiciously like a recycled tanning booth. (You really gotta just roll with this.)
After screaming her desire to become the 70-year-old she knows resides inside her, Mack gets her wish; when she emerges, fresh-faced Lail has been replaced by Diane Keaton.
Although disorientation and hysteria seem a reasonable first response, Keaton wildly overplays these early scenes, to a degree that’s embarrassing.
Mack stumbles back to the house she has been sharing with the others, where — thanks to shared childhood memories — it doesn’t take long for her to convince Carla that she’s still herself, despite outward appearances. (Happily, Sunita and Ali remain MIA at this point.)
Gotta give Carla credit: She accepts this with remarkable equanimity.
The plan, moving forward, is that this older person is Mack’s Aunt Rita, who is temporarily swapping homes with her niece, while the latter isolates in order to work on her next book.
Once back in her apartment, “Aunt Rita” is re-acquainted with Jack (Dustin Milligan), the adorably charming guy next door, who has been taking care of her dog, Cheese. (Get it? Mack and Cheese?) He finds Aunt Rita surprisingly interesting; she, emboldened by this opportunity to — as it were — flirt from concealment, finds it easier to be around him.
This story’s pitch-premise becomes more obvious as the days pass, and Mack/Aunt Rita become more comfortable with their dual identity. Aunt Rita is venerable enough to get away with a more forthright attitude than Mack never was able to muster, while the latter’s youthful spirit also encourages her “older body” to embrace an unexpected range of activity.
That said, an incident in a Pilates studio is cringe-worthy, again due to Aselton’s failure to reign in Keaton’s unrestrained silliness.
Things improve significantly when Aunt Rita is introduced to the “wine club” of cheerfully naughty “ladies of a certain age,” played with panache by a quartet of veteran scene-stealers: Angela (Wendie Malick), Betty (Lois Smith), Sharon (Loretta Devine) and Carol (Amy Hill). They add much-needed sparkle and sass to what follows.
Aunt Rita’s developing “relationship” with Jack also becomes more interesting, and we wonder: Are we heading into Harold and Maude territory?
Keaton continues to have an impressively strong career, despite — or because of — the fact that she has been playing the same role (herself) for decades. The half-cocked head, inquisitive gaze and mildly stammered line deliveries are very familiar by now, but she makes it work. (Mostly.)
Milligan’s Jack is perhaps too perfect, but — in fairness — he makes the most of a thoroughly stereotyped “good guy” role. At her best moments, Lail’s Mack is adorably flustered; at times, though, she becomes unappealingly whiny.
Paige is a highlight; she puts genuine effort into Carla’s personality. Unlike anybody else in this eyebrow-raising story, she has several emotional swings, each handled credibly. (I’d love to have her as one of my best friends.)
On a trivial note, Martin Short’s fans will search in vain for him; he solely voices Mack’s dog, Cheese, during a hallucinatory sequence.
The pending moral is blindingly obvious, as we approach the finale, although it would have been nice if Walter and Welsh hadn’t felt it necessary to pound the point home with a preachy soliloquy. (File this under Not Trusting The Viewers’ Intelligence.)
This film has enjoyable moments, but not many. Although I’ve seen worse first efforts, Aselton hasn’t shown enough talent here to suggest the possibility of a successful second career as a director.
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