She’s Funny That Way: EW review
August 18, 2015 - accent chair
Funny as in ha-ha? Sadly, no. She’s flattering most a turkey, actually, and even a built cast—Jennifer Aniston, Owen Wilson, Rhys Ifans, Kathryn Hahn, Will Forte—can’t rescue director Peter Bogdanovich’s overcooked giblets.
The movie’s stars, along with co-executive producers Wes Anderson and Noah Baumbach, contingency have sealed on during slightest in partial to work with a unsuitable yet much-admired auteur behind ’70s new-cinema classics like The Last Picture Show and Paper Moon. (He appears a lot some-more mostly in behaving roles these days than in a director’s chair; a final underline film Bogdanovich helmed, not counting 2007’s well-received Tom Petty documentary Runnin’ Down a Dream, was a injured yet entirely watchable duration drama The Cat’s Meow in 2001.) She’s Funny That Way is posted as a adore minute to a classical oddball comedies of Hollywood’s golden age, yet delivers relief Woody Allen instead; it’s like Bullets Over Broadway minus a host tract and 90 percent of a charm.
The brownie British singer Imogen Poots (28 Weeks Later) stars as Izzy Finkelstein, a flattering call lady with a heart whose steel we can substantially theory and a mile-wide “Brooklyn” accent clearly borrowed from a 1930s gun moll. Providence lands her in a Manhattan hotel room of a shaggy-haired Hollywood executive named Arnold Albertson (Owen Wilson), a born—or maybe “serial” is a improved word—romantic who offers to give her $30,000 giveaway and transparent to leave hooking behind and pursue her dream of treading a boards. She departs his apartment with a few hours of lustful memories and a five-figure nest egg, usually to find during her subsequent day’s audition—because what prostitute with a fifth-rate representative doesn’t get called in for a vital purpose in a Broadway play?—that it’s Albertson’s project. And also that his singer mother Delta (Kathryn Hahn) will be her costar, along with a rakish, eternally be-scarved film star Seth Gilbert (Rhys Ifans), who is in adore with Delta and really saw Izzy withdrawal Arnold’s hotel room a night before.
Hilarity doesn’t ensue, yet a infuriating mixed of furious coincidences does—mostly involving Jennifer Aniston as an abrasive, badly wigged (in both senses) psychiatrist, Will Forte as a untimely playwright, and Austin Pendleton as an recurrent aged customer reluctant to let Izzy quit a business. None of a behaving is terrible, per se, aside from Poots’ My Cousin Vinny-isms; it’s only incurably broad. Wilson mostly flails and stutters, while Aniston narrows her eyes and spits reproach and Ifans does his naughty-pirate thing. Only Hahn seems to quarrel for shade in discourse that frequency allows it.
But if we can let go of a large holes in proof and ubiquitous dustiness of a tract (cell phones exist, yet frequency get used; landline difficulty reigns), it’s fun only to count adult a cameos: Debi Mazar, Ileana Douglas, and Cybill Shepard get a few some-more estimable moments of shade time, while names like Michael Shannon, Tovah Feldshuh, Tatum O’Neill, Graydon Carter, Lucy Punch, Joanna Lumley, and Fun Home star Sydney Lucas go by faster than we can contend “SAG card”; basically, if there’s an immaterial waiter or bellhop or Macy’s confidence ensure in a shot, contingency are they have half an EGOT during home.
It’s not a spoiler to contend that a film ends with a selected film shave from a 1946 Ernst Lubitsch film called Cluny Brown that fizzes with accurately a kind of frail urbanity Bogdanovich is perplexing to imitate here. The stage proves that his troubadour was worthwhile, yet mostly it serves as an glorious sign that we could go true to a source and spend a idle afternoon with AMC Classics instead. C–