Four stars. Rated R, for profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.7.17
Stand-up comics have a
significant advantage, when it comes to autobiographical projects; they’ve
fine-tuned such material during years of comedy club appearances.
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| As their relationship blossoms, Kumail (Kumail Nanjiani) and Emily (Zoe Kazan) spend more and more time together, even as both continue to insist — with diminishing conviction — that this "isn't anything serious." |
The results can be terrific, as
demonstrated by (for example) Nia Vardalos’ My
Big Fat Greek Wedding and Billy Crystal’s 700 Sundays.
The Big Sick is a similarly delightful
experience: by turns sweet, funny and poignant, with a gently instructive
cross-cultural moral that we desperately need these days.
The film stars Pakistani-American
actor/comedian Kumail Nanjiani, perhaps best recognized from his starring role
on HBO’s Silicon Valley. He co-wrote The Big Sick with his wife, Emily V.
Gordon; the film depicts their real-life courtship, which started when, as a
grad student, she attended one of his stand-up appearances at a Chicago comedy
club.
The relationship gets off to a
shaky start. Although Kumail (playing himself) and Emily (Zoe Kazan) enjoy each
other’s company, neither is looking for a relationship. She’s focused on
finishing a master’s degree in couples and family counseling, in order to begin
a career as a therapist; he’s enduring the grueling, grinding ordeal of trying
to hone a stand-up set in front of frequently unforgiving audiences.
Then there’s the other issue.
She’s a modern American white gal; he belongs to a conservative Muslim family,
with parents — Azmat (Anupam Kher) and Sharmeen (Zenobia Shroff) — who expect
him to enter into a traditional Pakistani arranged marriage. Like they did, and
like his older brother Naveed (Adeel Akhtar) did, with his wife Fatima (Shenaz
Treasury).
Kumail faithfully has dinner once
a week with his family: chaotic affairs with (in his own words) “five different
conversations going on, people talking over each other, and everyone’s very
loud.” Which wouldn’t be so bad, except that Kumail’s mother always sets a
sixth place at the table, in case an eligible young Pakistani woman “happens”
to drop in. Which one always does.
Bearing a photo and résumé. Which
Kumail dutifully takes back to his apartment, once dinner concludes, and tosses
into a cigar box laden with similar profiles.
So yes, there’s a strong echo of Greek Wedding, albeit from a Pakistani
perspective. But there’s also a significant difference, because Kumail can’t
work up the courage to tell his parents about Emily (whereas she has shared
everything about him with her folks). He’s paralyzed by anecdotes about adult
children and other relations banished from their families, for similar
“transgressions.”
Unfortunately, Kumail also
doesn’t share his lack of candor with Emily: a nagging secret that eats at him,
as their didn’t-want-a-relationship blossoms into a genuine love affair.
This can only end badly ... but
Kumail can’t imagine how badly.
