You wouldn’t know it from the title, or the needlessly chaotic initial 10-15 minutes, but once director Trish Sie’s modest little film settles down, it becomes one of the warmest, most touching odes to friendship I’ve seen in years.
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| Jane (Yara Shahidi, center) and her posse — from left, Alex (Charlie Morgan Patton), Nora (Simone Recasner), Corinne (Odessa A'zion) and Liz (Maia Mitchell) — discover that "cakebarring" is a great way to attract guys. (Note the cake at table center.) |
This film’s back-story is equally enchanting. Shulman, a Nashville transplant who wound up in Los Angeles as a twentysomething, was celebrating best friend Chrissy Osmulski’s birthday in a bar in the summer of 2012. Shulman, an avid baker, brought along a cherry cake to share with Chrissy and several other friends; the tasty dessert drew the attention of other patrons, and Shulman suddenly realized that this could be a great way to meet guys.
Hence the beginning of what she dubbed “cakebarring.” Starting the following January, she vowed to bake a different cake each week, bringing it and her friends to a different venue each week, with the ultimate goal of 50 cakes by the end of the year. She recorded this tasty campaign in what became a popular blog — complete with recipes — which in turn led to an equally well received 2015 book.
Now, working alongside Sie, Shulman has adapted her adventures into a charming film. Shahidi’s Jane is Shulman’s alter ego, while A’zion’s Corinne stands in for Chrissy. They’re best friends totally into each other’s groove, despite being polar opposites.
The bookish Jane, whip-smart but introverted, pursues law school studies apparently dictated by her imperious parents; baking becomes a respite during study breaks. By day, she works as an obsessively organized mailroom clerk in an office run by the somewhat grandmotherly Benita (Bette Midler, in a fleeting part that should have been expanded).
The wildly extroverted Corinne, in contrast, is a force of nature: an irrepressible free spirit who embraces any occasion at 15 on a 10-point scale, while bouncing from one joyous experience to the next. (“A human sparkler, a flash of color and light,” as Shulman described Chrissy.)
We can’t imagine Corinne keeping a job for more than two weeks. She likely regards sleep as a waste of time, and bemoans the fact that her shy roomie doesn’t work harder at “putting herself out there,” particularly when it comes to what she wears.
“If it works for Mr. Rogers,” Jane says defensively, at one point, “it works for me.”
Corinne groans … and A’zion is just as marvelous at exasperation, as every other emotion.
Let it also be said that costume designer Ciara Whaley obviously had a great time with Corinne’s wild outfits.
Corinne’s birthday is celebrated at a local bar, with a gaggle of other friends, and a cake that Jane has baked for the occasion. The result is predictable; the gals realize they’re onto something. The resulting plan is hatched over liberal quantities of alcohol, with the obligatory rules: different cakes, different bars, on a weekly basis.
The first couple of months emerge in a delightful montage, with Sie and Shulman cleverly identifying each cake via some part of the surrounding landscape. The initial entries are traditional — Red Velvet Cake (No. 1), spray-painted on a sheet of plywood carried by two workmen; and Spiced Rum Cake (No. 2), labeled on a guitar case sticker — but soon get more ambitious:
• Apple Stack Cake (No. 9), its name wrapped on a passing bus; and
• Chocolate Chili Cake (No. 14), as part of some restaurant wall art.
Jane begins to emerge from her shell, like a flower blossoming in the sun’s warmth; Corinne provides the encouragement and momentum that keep the campaign going. Shahidi and A’zion are fun to watch together, their characters bonded to a degree that surmounts mere acting. Jane and Corinne feel genuine.
You’re waiting for the penny to drop, right?
The first clue actually comes early in the film, when Corinne complains of headaches. Then, quite suddenly — roughly midway through the yearlong cake campaign — she’s diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor.
At which point, this becomes an entirely different sort of story … but — this is important — without losing any of the charm and buoyant atmosphere that have taken us this far. Matters become poignant, yes, and even grim … yet, somehow, Sie and Shulman do not turn this into a downer. The nature of Jane and Corinne’s friendship becomes stronger, more focused and cherished.
Corinne never gets cranky or demanding; Jane doesn’t turn into a fussy mother hen. Their “oneness” simply switches — smoothly — into a different gear.
Ron Livingston and Martha Kelly enter the saga at this point, as Corinne’s Phoenix-based parents, Fred and Ruth. The former’s OCD tendencies are hilarious, and Livingston makes the most of these tics and hiccups. If Fred encounters a slightly wobbly restaurant table, he won’t simply shove a folded napkin beneath one leg; he’ll whip out a screwdriver and wrench, and adjust the damn thing until it stands perfectly.
This obviously is Fred’s coping mechanism: a means of distracting himself from the dire prognosis his daughter likely faces. Ruth has graciously tolerated her husband’s behavior for years; Kelly excels at rueful smiles and heavenward gazes. Ruth copes by throttling Fred back, as much as possible.
At quieter moments — like when, in real life, you catch people who are unaware of being watched — Fred and Ruth both look lost, even forlorn.
As for what happens next … well, that would be telling. Suffice to say that Sie and Shulman carefully avoid mawkish sentiment, which makes the third act that much more intense.
I rarely exit a film feeling privileged to have spent time with two such captivating characters. This is one of those moments.
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