So
the idea, they say, is to write what you know, but since men make up more than
80 percent of the screenwriters in Hollywood, we’ve long been subjected to a
cavalcade of female protagonists created without any actual insider info. (Just
kidding! What female protagonists?) The majority of fictional women in movies
are fabricated from supposition, cliché, and fantasy, with romantic-comedy
heroines in particular usually operating under the comforting assumption that
marriage and kids are the Holy Grail, and the physical business is just a means
to an end. The female characters who love sex are traditionally the hot-mess
best friend, the manipulative bitch, and — well, I think that’s it. Sex is
about power (according to Oscar Wilde), and one-dimensional women are easier to
handle … or would be if they actually existed.
The authentic, profane, and
surprisingly radical genius of comedian Amy Schumer does not lie in the fact
that she’s unafraid to reflect that we chicks contain multiple dimensions, many
of them embarrassingly ugly, but in that she uses herself as the defiant
vehicle to illustrate her points. Schumer has been riding a wave of acclaim for
her killer TV show “Inside Amy Schumer,” which laces silly, raunchy bits with
razor-sharp feminist commentary. And in her hilariously perceptive rom-com “Trainwreck,” she continues to combine her brash comedy with
casual crucifixion, making her feature film debut as both a devastatingly smart
screenwriter and very capable leading lady.
As is her usual M.O., Schumer plays
a character named Amy, first glimpsed in flashback as a pre-teen being lectured
by her father (the underappreciated Colin Quinn) on the horrors of monogamy,
then seen a couple decades later putting that advice into practice with a
montage of men, explaining to us in voiceover how she’s perfectly content with
her boozy, sex-positive lifestyle. (Or: “Don’t judge me, f**kers.”)
Amy writes for a men’s magazine called “S’Nuff” (the
matchless Tilda Swinton flexes her comedic chops as Amy’s blunt editor), and
her latest assignment is a profile on Manhattan sports doctor Aaron Conners (Bill Hader, an unlikely but excellent leading-man
choice). Naturally, Amy and Aaron hit it off, and while he seems a little
shocked by — but definitely not unhappy with — her sexual boldness, she’s
completely floored by his matter-of-fact insistence that they start dating.
Now, romantic-comedy rules dictate
that both Amy and Aaron have support systems; she is super-tight with her
happily married sister Kim (Brie Larson, in a lovely performance), and he
regularly confides in his close friend, basketball superstar and serial
cheapskate LeBron James. (King James proves to be a humble master of comic
timing.)
“Trainwreck”
unfolds as Amy tries to wrangle her selfish, freewheeling ways into the
perceived confines of an adult relationship with Aaron, which is where
Schumer’s mostly audacious script butts up against director Judd Apatow, who has made a career out of indecisive
men-children straightening up and flying right. It’s tempting to blame him for
the tritely happy ending, a rarified world in which Madison Square Garden is a
personal playground — though you can probably chalk it up to a studio wary of
ceding complete control of a movie to a mischievous wild card like Schumer.
But between Schumer, Apatow (who consistently throws his massive clout behind
talented women like Schumer and Lena Dunham), and the stacked cast, there was
never any doubt that “Trainwreck” would work. Of
course Schumer is funny here, her delivery is at once unique and familiar, but
she also fares well in her dramatic scenes, which actually dovetail nicely with
the comedy and don’t feel like forced attempts at conflict. Many of the faces
on screen have also been on Schumer’s show, like comedians Mike Birbiglia and
Dave Attell, along with the riotously slimy Jon
Glaser, but watch out for former WWE wrestler John Cena,
who goes for broke as Amy’s sorta-boyfriend. He is a
scream in an awkward sex scene early in the film, reportedly ad-libbing most of
his ridiculous lines.
It’s hard to overstate what a minor
miracle it feels like to see the entrenched gender roles reversed in “Trainwreck,” with the woman as the reluctant, immature
party unsure about giving up her sexual freedom and the man as the patient
romantic, with coupledom his desired end-game. And even though you’ve almost
certainly encountered it in real life, have you ever heard the main female character
in a romantic comedy use the word “f**k” as a verb? It’s Amy Schumer’s world
now, people, and it’s about f**king time.
This article appears in Jul 22-28, 2015.
