Trainwreck stays true to its title. It is a series
of sketches rather than a coherent film, veering into a parody of itself
halfway through and ending with what is a
“trainwreck” of a dance montage that made me vomit in my chair as Amy Schumer
does in the movie. Unfortunately for her, Amy Schumer is credited as the sole writer: the script moves at a tortoise’s pace and favors the occasional pop-culture
reference (Django, Chipotle, hahaha!) rather
than actual comedy. Trainwreck makes
Paul Feig’s Spy look like a landmark
of comedy.
There are five
movies in this piggish slug of a film. One where Amy Schumer works for a
slightly disturbed, spray-tanned Tilda Swinton (yes, Judd Apatow, it’s
funny because it’s Tilda Swinton) and molests Ezra Miller (yes, Judd Apatow,
it’s funny because he played a crazy boy in We
Need to Talk About Kevin with Tilda Swinton and because he also doesn’t
look sixteen). One where Amy Schumer comes to terms with her Dad’s bigotry and with her slightly uncomfortable
feelings towards her “happy” married sister (Brie Larson who, poor dear, is
acting her heart out). One where she dates a single, sexy sports doctor who's best
friends with LeBron James (who is more feminine than you think he is because he
watches Downton Abbey, HAHA!). One where Amy Schumer is seeking out muscular, homosexual men to have sex with her (“I do like pussy after all!). And, the
movie we secretly wanted: where Amy Schumer smokes tons of pot, befriends a
homeless man and cracks sassy jokes with Becky Ann-Baker at a Doctor’s Without
Borders awards banquet.
Bill Hader and
Amy Schumer do not work together, partly because Bill Hader doesn’t exactly fit into Schumer’s bizarre world of bigots and closeted muscle
men, and partly because the script is loaded with too much fluff and we’re never given
time to see an authentic relationship develop between the two.
The real
culprit, however, is director Judd Apatow. At this point in his career, he has the
directing skills of Ph.D candidate James Franco. The film never finds a tone,
instead settling on a “I’m better than you, let me torch your cash and
subject you to my pretentious humor.” shtick. His lack of taste renders the jokes in the film offensive, even though
I’m too much of a sport to comment on the casual racism and homophobia inserted
in order to appeal to everybody. (You
know, except gays, blacks, Latinos, Asians, etc..)
From shoddy camerawork to an awkward mishandling of Amy Schumer’s energy (funeral scene
and weirdly serious fights, anyone?), it would be an understatement to say we
are kept at an arms-length. Think, instead, that we’re trapped in a cage and
Judd Apatow is throwing peanuts at us – with the occasional sketch comedy
routine (Ezra Miller, Mike Birglia and son, all funny) thrown in to make us
clap like babies. Not only is this disappointing, but Judd Apatow panders to the
basest and grossest members of our society and leaves us exiting the theater
queasy and uneasy.
Comedy is great right now – you can stream episodes of BoJack Horseman, Catastrophe, Silicon Valley, Veep and many others as a better way to spend your time. And Amy Schumer is, honestly, the same
Amy Schumer you watch on Inside Amy
Schumer; her performance is very good and frequently hilarious, but never transcendent.
Judd Apatow hits comedy beats sporadically. The film is more hit than miss: that
shouldn’t be the standard now, should it?
Grade: D