Mean Girls: Spitefully high-spirited

Mean Girls (2024) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for sexual candor, profanity and bad teen behavior

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.12.24

Confucius said it best, so long ago:

 

“Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”

 

While Cady (Angourie Rice, far right) watches apprehensively, her school's "mean girls"
— from left, Karen (Avantika), Regina (Reneé Rapp) and Gretchen (Bebe Wood) —
reveal the "Burn Book," in which they've written all manner of nasty comments about
fellow students.

Unlikely as it seems, this story has become even more relevant today, than it was when scripter Tina Fey’s clever adaptation of Rosalind Wiseman’s 2002 parental guide — Queen Bees and Wannabes — became a popular 2004 film for Lindsay Lohan.

Although it seemed an unlikely choice to transition into a musical, Mean Girls became a Broadway hit upon opening in 2018; Fey wrote the show’s book, accompanied by Jeff Richmond (music) and Nell Benjamin (lyrics). Touring productions continue to this day, and a film adaptation was inevitable; directors Samantha Jayne and Arturo Perez Jr. — with a script once again by Fey — have delivered a thoroughly entertaining two hours of lively razzle-dazzle.

 

(And I have to wonder: Was Fey prescient, two decades back? Did she somehow know that the dark side of social media would make this story fresh again?)

 

All of the original film’s essential plot beats have been retained; many have been re-tooled as energetic production numbers by choreographer Kyle Hanagami.

 

The first is a seemingly spontaneous, home-made garage video by Janis ’Imi’iki (Auli’I Cravalho) and Damian Hubbard (Jaquel Spivey, a force of nature), who function throughout this saga as both characters and a Greek chorus. This opening number, “A Cautionary Tale,” sets the stage for the events to follow. (Pay close attention; their promised details will prove accurate.)

 

The scene then shifts to Kenya, where 16-year-old Cady Heron (Angourie Rice) — despite having thoroughly enjoyed studying animals and stars in the wild, with her mother (Jenna Fischer) — laments her inability to enjoy a “normal” teenage experience. Mom relents, moves them to Evanston, Ill., and Cady eagerly begins her first day at North Shore High School...

 

...and hasn’t the slightest notion how to fit in.

 

A droll montage introduces her various teachers and subjects, most importantly the AP math class taught by Ms. Norbury (Fey, reprising her role from the 2004 film). Cady winds up sitting behind Aaron Samuels (Christopher Briney), and is instantly smitten.

 

Lunchtime is the worst, as Cady slowly walks down the center aisle, silently shunned by the cliques at each table. Janis and Damian — outcasts themselves, and proud of it — take pity and rescue her from social oblivion.

 

Then the air is sucked out of the cafeteria, as queen bee-yatch Regina (Reneé Rapp, deliciously haughty) makes her entrance, joining her already seated posse, Gretchen (Bebe Wood) and Karen (Avantika). They’re “The Plastics,” over-the-top glamour girls with nothing but disdain for the common herd. Regina spots Cady, and — much to everybody’s surprise — invites the new girl to their table.

 

I Feel Pretty: Sweet self-empowerment saga

I Feel Pretty (2018) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for fleeting nudity, sexual candor and profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.20.18

Here’s a nice surprise.

Few actors could rebound so successfully from a bomb the size of last year’s Snatched, but Amy Schumer has managed a reasonably graceful landing.

Believing that their chances of scoring online dates will increase if they tackle the problem
en masse, Vivian (Aidy Bryant, left), Jane (Busy Philipps) and Renee (Amy Schumer)
strike a pose for a group selfie.

I Feel Pretty blends (mostly) gentle romantic comedy with a well-delivered message on the importance of self-worth: of being not merely resigned to the hand one has been dealt, but celebrating it, each and every day. That’s a valuable lesson in an era when, everywhere we look, we’re encouraged to emulate — nay, become — akin to the media-splashed icons of physical perfection who surround us.

An impossible task. And one that can’t help feeding natural insecurities.

High fives, then, to Schumer and the writing/directing team of Abby Kohn and Marc Silverstein, for concocting such a (mostly) delightful rebuttal to such nonsense.

(The “mostly” applies because Schumer indulges in occasional bits of needless vulgarity that — in each case — briefly bring the film to a screeching halt. Apparently she can’t help herself.)

New Yorker Renee Bennett (Schumer) lives each day beneath a hovering cloud of low self-esteem and minimal expectations, convinced that she’s not “good enough” to share space with those who invariably seem to be something “better.” Such feelings are exacerbated by her job: toiling mostly unseen in a basement server room as one of two employees who handle Internet orders for cosmetic giant Lily LeClair’s upscale Fifth Avenue headquarters.

Renee shares this grimy garret with the misanthropic Mason (Adrian Martinez, an understated hoot), who — were he asked — probably prefers such surroundings.

Down time is spent with best buds Jane (Busy Philipps) and Vivian (Aidy Bryant); they collectively view themselves as three musketeers mounting frequent assaults on dating web sites ... never breaking past the outer ramparts.

And everywhere Renee goes — whether spin class at SoulCycle, or infrequent visits to Lily LeClair HQ — she’s all but invisible to the beautiful people who surround her. With one exception: Mallory (Emily Ratajkowski), who, despite being a flawless model like so many others, is a genuine human being with both heart and soul.

No surprise, then, that Renee — at a despairing low point — impulsively makes a big, tall wish (after seeing the similar moment while catching up with the movie Big).