3.5 stars. Rated R, for strong sexual content, profanity, nudity and drug use
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.17.15
This film is impressively
schizophrenic.
On the one hand, it’s as
jaw-droppingly vulgar and tasteless as the average Melissa McCarthy fiasco ...
which is to say, pretty much what one should expect from something directed and
produced by Judd Apatow (The 40-Year Old Virgin, This Is 40, Bridesmaids).
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| Although Aaron (Bill Hader) has no experience with being interviewed, he's savvy enough to know when somebody is blowing smoke up his skirt ... and that's definitely the case, as Amy (Amy Schumer) feebly tries to persuade him that she knows stuff about sports. |
Then again, some of the crude
bits are wincingly hilarious.
On the third hand, the seemingly
relentless profanity and potty-mouthed sexuality are intercut with moments of
tenderness that are touching enough to prompt tears ... as was the case with
numerous patrons at Tuesday evening’s preview screening.
In the grand Hollywood tradition,
then, you’ll laugh, you’ll cry and you’ll cringe ... although I rather doubt Trainwreck will change your life.
But it certainly does prove that
Amy Schumer has arrived. And how.
Actually, she’s already been
around for a little while, as fans of her TV series Inside Amy Schumer are
well aware. Her shtick gets its momentum from the juxtaposition between her
fresh-faced, doe-eyed, girl-next-door (seeming) innocence, and the
breathtakingly blunt and appalling stuff that emerges from her mouth. The goal
is shock value, with (she undoubtedly hopes) at least a few belly-laughs along
the way.
Trainwreck may be helmed by
Apatow, but the script comes solely from Schumer. It’s maladroit, to say the
least, and — at 125 minutes — needlessly bloated and self-indulgent. And yet
her storyline also possesses (at times) a sparkling sweetness that perfectly
suits the gal-desperately-needing-redemption character she has written for
herself.
Which is why this film resonates more
than McCarthy’s big-screen vehicles, where it’s impossible to engage
emotionally with any of the one-dimensional burlesques populating the screen.
Schumer still has a lot to learn, when it comes to translating her stand-up
routines to the demands of a two-hour narrative, but her big-screen writing
debut here is, nonetheless, better than many.
She stars as Amy (not much
imagination there), one of the staff writers at New York’s S’Nuff magazine, a
slick, deliberately ghastly publication that exists solely to mortify,
humiliate and otherwise offend anybody with mainstream sensibilities. Her editor,
Dianna, is a superficial bee-yatch of astonishing heartlessness: a role
delivered with spectacular cruelty by Tilda Swinton.
