Likewise, Sisters won't do much to change the minds of people who've already had enough of Fey's and Poehler's brand of carefree-white-comic stylings.
Danner underpass movie#
(If you don't believe me, note the fact that it's already been compared to Bridesmaids, which, hallowed be its name, mainstream critics apparently think is the only funny movie ever made with female leads since time began.) Whether or not Sisters is the best use of Fey's or Poehler's gifts is beside the point they're entitled to blow off the same dopey steam that propels the likes of Robert De Niro and Blythe Danner in all those Fockers movies. It's the kind of broad, wacky laff riot that male stars have been getting away with for decades, but which will undoubtedly be scrutinized in an entirely different way-not just because of Fey and Poehler's stature, but also, inescapably, because of their gender. And there are botched makeouts between Maura and her handyman crush (Ike Barinholtz) that take the rom-com trope of bumbling love scenes (which Poehler spoofed perfectly in They Came Together) way past cutely klutzy.Įven with some quiet, underplayed moments that capture the unsettling limbo of adulthood deferred, Sisters resists going too deep. There are a lot of sight gags about penises. This makes space for the comic gifts of John Leguizamo (as an aging sleazebag who, as Kate notes, looks “like, underpass weathered.”), Samantha Bee (as one half of That Couple Who Are Still Together and Have Sex in Public), Kate McKinnon (as a butch lesbian with entirely too little screen time relative to her real-life brilliance), and Maya Rudolph (as Kate's high-school nemesis, Brinda). The sisters comb through Facebook for likely invitees from their past, a raft of archetypes native to both teen movies and reunion comedies. The party is the centerpiece here, opening up the movie like the overdyed, absurdist prom corsage it's meant to be. The kicker is that Kate, who'd always counted on her little sister to be the responsible “party mom,” suspends her bad-girl ways for a night so Maura can cut loose. Ignore the fact that their parents are written as the kind who would have turned that room into a home gym the second their kids turned 18: The bedroom is the madeleine that unites Kate and Maura in a harebrained longing to recapture the simpler time of their youth by throwing one last rager.
For some reason, the sisters' shared childhood bedroom has remained untouched since high-school graduation, a time capsule of wicker bed frames, Xanadu posters, and economy-sized containers of hair gel. To nutshell it: The duo's parents (a flawless James Brolin and Dianne Wiest) are downsizing to a condo and putting their suburban-Orlando home on the market. Sisters is not what you'd call a plot-driven movie.
Surprise! Amy Poehler is the uptight one in this film. In other words, hold on to your hats, 'cause this time it's Fey who gets to talk like a '90s rapper! Poehler is her younger sister, Maura, a nurse and general worrywart whose lifelong savior complex has been kicked into high gear by her divorce. Sisters adds a dash of Freaky Friday to the formula with Fey as Kate, a deadbeat former high-school hottie who's now scraping by on what she can make doing possibly illegal dye jobs from her roommate's kitchen and trying to redeem herself in the eyes of her teen daughter. From SNL to Baby Mama to the Golden Globes-and even, phantomlike, in 2009's Spring Breakdown, in which the part written for Fey ended up being played by Parker Posey-their two personas have always been predictable: Fey is the buttoned-up, rule-bound uptighty, while Poehler is the glinty-eyed, rubber-faced hedonist who at one point or another starts talking like a '90s rapper. Part of the contrived appeal of Sisters is the meta aspect of role-switching between the longtime costars.
And finally, I've arrived at a time in my life where it feels like every weird twinge could well be the start of perimenopause, so I am a criminally easy mark for lines like, “We need a little less Forever 21 and a little more Suddenly 42.” So, not what you'd call an impartial observer: I wanted to like, even love, Fey and Poehler's first new film together since they teamed up for 2008's Baby Mama. Furthermore, Sisters was written by longtime Fey copilot Paula Pell-who was, during her tenure at Saturday Night Live, the brains behind the likes of Bobbi and Marty Culp and Justin Timberlake's restaurant mascots.
I love both Fey and Poehler individually, but together they're my comedy kryptonite-whatever cringeworthy missteps they've made in the past tend to get shoved to the side when I see them together. I'll confess right off the bat that I'm the target audience for Sisters, the new comedy that stars Tina Fey and Amy Poehler as estranged sisters grappling with how their lives have failed to fulfill their youthful potential.
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