by Joe Hammerschmidt
In the disjointed era of “#MeToo” we now live in, the simple importance of allowing woman their moment to speak and be heard, share their consistently valid views, can’t help but echo on film now. The timing by which the latest representation of female empowerment does seem as simultaneously perfect and imperfect as can be expected; there’s still an impact to be felt from I Feel Pretty, yet not necessarily for the right reasons. A year ago, finding ourselves laughing a little at Amy Schumer’s exploration of newfound confidence in life and work could’ve been a welcome perk in a sea of comedies with little to no value toward audiences in the future. With the brash, unapologetic comedienne in the driver’s seat, it’s still as fun a comedy as they come, yet its immediate relevance is impossible to ponder. Do we laugh, do we try to sympathize? The best answer may be a compromise of both, that we would step into her shoes, understand her story. Trouble is, that plot isn’t entirely fresh, regrettably weighing itself down before the pivotal final act.
Schumer is your standard rom-com protagonist but tries so hard to stand out; Renee Bennett has that kind of job which would look impressive on anyone’s resume: working at a prestigious cosmetic company, as their online sales coordinator, in an undisclosed Brooklyn basement with IT assistant Mason (Adrian Martinez). The underwhelming work role is just one factor to her awkward insecurity, but her friends Vivian and Jane (Aidy Bryant and Busy Phillips) still favor her greatly for her honesty, even as they struggle to find dates, yet another factor. In her attempts to transition more into a smaller receptionist gig, her confidence is put to the test, counteracted further by a small case of harmless head trauma. From there, Renee comes to, appearing slightly delusional as she experiences a heightened self-awareness, a new self while still in the same body.
I Feel Pretty, try as it does, perhaps a little much, can’t seem to escape the clichéd rut of the standard rom-com formula; quick-witted writing duo Abby Kohn and Marc Silverstein make their directorial debut, in an opportunity to make a small step beyond just the standard nicheness, almost-shallowness of a female-driven comedy. The pair had cut their teeth on such exemplary scripts as Never Been Kissed, Valentine’s Day, and How to Be Single; that style remains unchanged, and again they seem to try a little too hard and come short not to fall under that same trap of disguised beauty against real-world expectations.
At least the supporting cast can help to lessen the negative impact, led by Michelle Williams as the makeup firm’s den mother, reluctant in seeing Renee’s potential as a confident voice for their new retail line targeted toward the “average citizen.” Comparing to her one-two punch last holiday season, which, here Williams sheds the serious in favor of all fun. Michelle proceeds to channel her inner Ellen Greene, even still when the role is quite small. To great comedic effect, and a touch of feels-y instinct, she delivers in a perfect show of her honest range. Black Sails lead Tom Hopper portrays her argumentative brother Grant, a charismatic model without a clue, suppressed by the family strata for trying to show his raw nerve. The moments when he does approach Renee appear to lack any thematic value, only striking to cheapen the chemistry. Their mother Lily (Lauren Hutton), who takes a pure shine right from the get-go to Renee’s personal mission, is present just enough to play the role of mediator and prevent sibling rivalry from bubbling over; her amount of screen time goes vastly understated, in this writer’s opinion.
And then there’s Renee’s actual love interest, the least likely of individuals, an average joe named Ethan (Rory Scovell, who will always be in my heart “that one guy from Ground Floor“). At multiple points, his very presence alone can light up the room while Schumer just flaunts; an entire scene where Renee effortlessly crashes a wet t-shirt contest in her crusade relies so heavily on Scovell’s individual reaction to the chaos and pulls through with no backtracking. You’d be hard-pressed to find a stronger shoulder to cry on and perform weird roleplaying conversation at dinner with. He and Schumer are just about the only pairing that comes anywhere close to likable, the lady committing to her full share even as the scenario they’re working with can’t stay on track with its lead.
There is no doubt this film struggles to stay true to its values, splitting the gal-pal aspect (think Girls Trip) and the cutthroat business instinct (think a watered-down Devil Wears Prada), down the middle, leaving the base elements to implode on each other. Compared to other female-friendly comedies of its type, it’s equal parts tame and generic, no matter what attempts are made to bear any variance of distinction. The limitations of its PG-13 rating don’t work in its favor. Pretty makes a rather steep slide down the ether through the third act, bearing no chance of recovering from its platitudes. And again, it comes back to what the film represents at its core, which I just couldn’t wrap around. A singular individual’s journey of self-empowerment need not be weighed down by a full laundry list of abnormalities leaving the journey void of any real life lesson, even when grandiose.
Kohn and Silverstein do still offer up something unique with I Feel Pretty, regardless of its timing, through the very presence of their heroine, whom Schumer embraces in every scene, though less so when the reality of the head trauma appears to present itself. Her timing, energy, and excitation would’ve been enough to put the film into masterpiece territory, with a much better script. To no surprise, she is considered unworthy of below-the-mark material. Actresses like her prove any written word can be made to look like fabricated gold when it comes to that point; she is still a joy to watch in the lead role, under the consideration that she’ll try to choose her characters more carefully next time. The loyal fans will gush, and it makes a great “girls night out” movie to counter against the macho event movies to come, yet its themes don’t always best represent the story. Its prevalence against a shifting turn in our modern culture may not help its case in the coming months, yet at the precise moment is its intentions honest and noble. (C+)
I Feel Pretty opens in most area theaters this weekend; rated PG-13 for sexual content, some partial nudity, and language; 110 minutes.
