La festa delle fidanzate

So, you're still in bed at 1 p.m. composing comments on friends' FaceBook shares, eating the other half of a stevia-sweetened chocolate bar from the night before, and then you move on to Netflix to get further from reality--where you see the face of beloved Bob Odenkirk in a harmless sounding title: "Girlfriends Day". You give it a look-see. You don't turn from it in irritation or boredom--it's holding you with the inscrutable power of untapped human potential. Every character looking at Odenkirk seems to be waiting for "something" to happen. Then his landlord takes action. And then I'm clapping for a brilliant moment, and barking out loud with laughter from my unused vocal chords at another moment. I get comfortable. I know that I, too, like Odenkirk's character, will write again. This film is exquisite.

I knew nothing about this movie before turning it on, but assumed it would be a comedy, from the main few cast members. Boy, was I wrong. It has a little humor, but no big laughs. It was a drama somewhere between The Big Lebowski and a sendup of a Hitchcock thriller, with a few moments that were almost out of a Wes Anderson film. I'd recommend this if you like the quiet and surrealistic storytelling of Lebowski. The story doesn't make much sense when viewed through the lens of realism, but should be viewed with a bit of whimsy. Bob Odenkirk gives a reliably good performance, as we've come to expect from him after his more serious, introspective work on Better Call Saul, and the rest of the cast present a perfect landscape for his character. This film might not be for everyone, but it's short enough (just over an hour) that it won't put you out much to give it a watch, and the action, while sometimes confusing, moves quickly enough that it keeps your attention from start to finish.

There is a fair amount to enjoy here: the performances are as good as you'd expect from the likes of Odenkirk - if anyone could make writing a greetings card interesting, then Bob's your man.

But I was disappointed with the direction the plot took - which steered away from the central premise of a slightly surreal and quirky tale of a divorced, down-on-his-luck, greetings card writer who, faced with redundancy (in multiple areas), is presented with an opportunity for romance and redemption.

This promising scenario was somewhat side-lined in favour of a murder plotline (this is all in the trailer, but there were multiple routes the plot could have taken).

The initial main hook: can Odenkirk's character write the greatest romance card ever - is answered, to some degree, but felt like a cop-out.

I was more interested in the budding romance between Odenkirk and Tamblyn than who killed a minor side-character - in fact, I could've done without that distraction altogether.

Movies should be judged on whether they achieved what they set out to portray - but I'm left confused as to what the writers had in mind here.

The pace is very slow. The plot is very thin, and lacks intensity or thrill. It just could have easily been shortened to half the time. The plot is a bit unlikely and contrived.

The paradigm has finally shifted and you won't be finding any beautiful--in a superficial surface sense--people here. They have been replaced, at last, by the talented people. Hollywood's no longer fashioned out of wood, insincere smiles, and GQish scientologists. Instead we get the great Bob Odenkirk with all of his charm and pathos. He's impossible not to like. His performance is tops here as he fights for his right to write...even if it's only greeting cards. Fine, lighthearted parallelisms are drawn to Chinatown. A touch of light & shadow noir illuminates the film. Whiplash witted one-liners slap you silly at just the right time. Not one but two actors with cleft appear -- Alex Karpovsky & Stacy Keach (it's good to see cleft-palated actors not named Joaquin Phoenix get some love; King Tut had one after all.) Slam poets get rightfully demystified as poetasters. As do novelists as writers who can't edit themselves. This is nothing if not a writer's kind of flick. Speaking, well, typing of, my only gripe is that Amber Tamblyn didn't get to read any of her highly inspired, original poetry. Really the only bummer here. If you dig Odenkirk, the written word, and a movie with a paucity of eye candy, then this one's for you.