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| Courtesy of A24 |
Writer-director
Gillian Robespierre’s first feature-length comedy is destined for controversy,
simply because it tackles what might be the most volatile topic in our
sociopolitical climate: abortion. What’s more, it does so without tiptoeing
around the subject or demonizing people on either side of the debate. Instead,
the writing and performances allow the characters to come across as real
people, not archetypes or thinly disguised straw men spouting tired talking
points.
If
you’ve heard about the film in the media, assuming you’ve heard about it at
all, it’s most likely been with the reductive description “abortion rom-com.”
Ignore that junk. I understand that some viewers might not even consider seeing
the movie based on the subject matter alone, and that’s fine. But those who
appreciate art that challenges preconceived notions in a realistic way should
find Obvious Child intelligent, sweet and hilarious.
Jenny
Slate (best known from Saturday Night Live and Parks and Recreation) plays
Donna Stern, a twenty-something comedian who mostly performs in the same
Brooklyn dive bar. Then in the span of a couple of days, her life, already
precariously balanced on the edge of “barely making it” and “financial ruin,”
is totally upended. Her boyfriend dumps her after revealing he’s been sleeping
with her friend, and then she finds out the bookstore where she works is
closing soon.
She
doesn’t handle the news in the most productive way, choosing to have a drunken
one-night stand with straight arrow Max (Jake Lacy, from The Office) instead.
The error in judgment leads to an unplanned pregnancy, which – thanks to Max
and Donna’s best friend (Gaby Hoffman) – turns out to be an insightful,
better-late-than-never journey into adulthood.
In
a perfect world, Obvious Child would make Jenny Slate a comedic star on the
level of Kristen Wiig or Melissa McCarthy. I don’t know if that’s going to
happen, but Slate makes Donna immediately appealing by instilling her with a
warm, neurotic and gloriously unfiltered personality.
Just
like most people in real life, she modulates her behavior depending on who
she’s around. So her raunchy conversations with her friends (like Hoffman, Lacy
and a scene-stealing Gabe Liedman) are much different than the more vulnerable
talks she has with her divorced parents (Richard Kind and Polly Draper). It
lets Slate create a much more complex character than we’re used to seeing women
get the chance to play on the big screen.
Best
of all, Obvious Child runs a brisk 85 minutes, so it doesn’t wear out its
welcome. I wouldn’t have objected to another few minutes’ worth of development
for Lacy and Hoffman’s characters, but I’m all for erring on the side of
brevity in today’s world of three-hour blockbusters. Again, the film isn’t for
everyone. But it’s one of 2014’s best for me. I loved it.
Obvious Child is rated R for language and sexual content.
Grade:
A-
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