When will Amy Schumer’s stockpile of public goodwill run out? The comic amassed a huge following with her popular and funny sketch show, Inside Amy Schumer. She leapt to the big screen with the well-received and successful Trainwreck. She looked ready to conquer Hollywood. At her best, she has a likable everywoman demeanour that ingratiates her with the public. Unfortunately, her latest projects haven’t shown her at her best.
Her last film, Snatched, was lukewarm and forgettable, while her Leather Special standup bombed horrifically. Schumer, at least for this reviewer, has enough charm to make one root for her. But with I Feel Pretty, her latest cinematic abomination, it’s clear she needs to rethink her approach to film before her stock with the public plummets to zero.
In Pretty (ostensibly a comedy), Schumer’s Renee leads a life of such quiet desperation it would make the most jaded, nihilistic French existentialist weep. Actually, she leads a life of loud, pleading, heartbreaking desperation. The opening scenes show Renee getting body shamed at every corner, ignored by people right in front of her, and looking at herself in the mirror with pure disgust and loathing. She hates her job, her life, and herself. She desperately wants to escape her body. Are you laughing yet? I’ve seen David Fincher movies open with a more lighthearted tone than Pretty’s first fifteen minutes of misery.
Luckily for Renee, after being inspired by Big (the overrated Tom Hanks movie), she knocks her head during a spin class (one of many product placements for SoulCycle) and gets a bout of magic movie amnesia. Renee is now convinced she’s a beautiful bombshell, despite occupying the same body she’s always had. She starts flaunting her perceived glamour everywhere she goes, scoring a new job, new friends, and a new boyfriend.
It’s a solid premise for a goofy slapstick farce or a somewhat dark comedy; there’s material to be mined here. But Pretty struggles to pick a consistent tone. It wants to be a wacky, quip-filled yukfest like Schumer’s previous movies, but it’s also very sincere and earnest about its (admittedly nice) message of self-love and body positivity. It tries to strike a Judd Apatow-esque balance of snarky and emotional, but it never sticks the landing. It sloppily mashes lazy jokes and bad monologues about “feeling good” into the same scenes, creating tonal whiplash. Also, its PG-13 rating hampers a lot of the jokes, as they never become as raunchy (or as funny) as they could be.
Directors/writers Abby Kohn and Marc Silverstein don’t liven up the proceedings with their camerawork. Their version of New York (and Boston, during one hilariously cheap-looking scene) is sanitized, flavourless, and sterile. The colours seem drab and faded, which is especially odd since Renee’s job takes place at a cosmetics company. The directing pair do a decent job of capturing Renee’s loneliness during a few long shots, but these scenes don’t bring much in the way of laughs. They were clearly relying on the script to carry the load while the camerawork was meant to be anonymous and unobtrusive. Sadly, the script is a wobbly crutch to lean on.
Pretty’s script simply isn’t funny. There are throwaway lines and brief gags that merit a few chuckles, but they never gel into a cohesive, funny whole. The uneven tone puts the viewer off-balance, unsure what’s meant to be a joke and what’s meant to be sincere. The characters are flat and one-note while the plot refuses to take any risks with its premise. Several scenes, especially a bikini contest, cross over from cringe-comedy to straight-up cringe.
Schumer is fine in the lead role, but she’s beginning to show her limitations as an actress. Without a hard R-rating to flaunt her vulgar sense of humour, Schumer seems adrift, unable to fully be herself. She struggles mightily with the emotional scenes in Pretty, failing to imbue them with much depth. She has a likable personality that keeps Pretty from completely falling apart, but she can’t save this picture.
Michelle Williams is fun as a self-loathing, self-obsessed cosmetics CEO, even if her character is underdeveloped. Rory Scovel is pleasant and endearing as Renee’s love interest. Aidy Bryant and Busy Philipps are completely half-baked as Renee’s rarely-seen friends, while Tom Hopper is terrible as an utterly irrelevant side character who’s given far too much screen time.
I Feel Pretty clearly means no ill will. Its positive message of self-acceptance should be encouraged, at the very least. But movies have to be judged on their execution, not their intent. And Pretty is a dud in every sense of the word. Renee might feel pretty, but after seeing this film, you’ll just feel...well, it rhymes with “pretty.”
