Too many romantic comedies witlessly hone in on the differences between men and women to create a heightened-stakes backdrop in which every interaction with the opposite sex is imbued with some sort of grand, gender-statement significance, which is of course then supposed to be neatly resolved and tidily put away by the time a paired-off happy ending rolls around.
Co-written by Annie Mumolo and Saturday Night Live‘s Kristen Wiig, Bridesmaids instead focuses a considerable amount of its energy on female friendships, yes, but also the things women want in relationships — love, security, availability — that are the same as men. The result is the best female-fronted Hollywood comedy in years, and a movie that just happens to almost incidentally be about women, if that makes sense. Yes, theirs is the lens or perspective through which the story is told, but it is not a pandering or cloying, exclusively pitched tale. In its savvy blend of the utterly silly and urbane, Bridesmaids reaches across aisle and grabs back the dignity of its nuptial-inspired moniker from seemingly a generation’s worth of mainstream studio pap like 27 Dresses and Bride Wars.
Wiig stars as Annie, a thirtysomething Milwaukee native who, after the failure of her bakery forces her into a jewelry store retail job for which she is ill-suited, finds herself stuck in a friends-with-benefits situation with a narcissistic jerk (Jon Hamm). Annie’s rough patch is additionally complicated when her longtime best friend Lillian (Maya Rudolph) announces her engagement. This seemingly highlights and underscores every perceived failing or emptiness in Annie’s life, and the passive-aggressive competitiveness of Helen (Rose Byrne), Lillian’s wealthy and newer friend, does little to bring about the best in Annie, even as a local cop, Nathan (Chris O’Dowd), tries his best to get to know her.
Its tone is a pinch exaggerated, true, but almost all of the movie’s set pieces are genuine howlers, and Bridesmaids belies the notion that femme-centric comedies have to be either toothless, gorgeously wardrobed fluff or vapid and completely over-the-top. Possessing distinctly drawn supporting characters, director Paul Feig’s film is honest about their different backgrounds and stations in life, and doesn’t sacrifice sensible motivation for a couple cheap scene-to-scene laughs. Wiig, meanwhile, elevates her game from mere top-notch sketch performer; as Annie, she’s so damn good at communicating the quiet and relatable sadness behind the smile and cackling, put-on-a-happy-face exterior. And that’s why Bridesmaids comedy connects so consistently, and forcefully — because it matters to the characters, who in turn are genuine and familiar.
Combo-pack versions are also available, but Bridesmaids comes to DVD presented in 2.40:1 anamorphic widescreen, with Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio tracks in English, Spanish and French. Housed in a complementary cardboard slipcover, this version includes both the (R-rated) theatrical version of the movie and a longer unrated version, with an additional six minutes of material — much of it foul-mouthed riffing. An audio commentary track with Feig, Mumulo, Wiig and other cast members proves a lively, enjoyable listen, anchoring the bonus material. Other supplemental extras include 12-plus minutes of very funny improvised and alternate line readings, and a four-minute gag reel in which breasts are touched (accidentally and otherwise), car alarms go off in the distance, and the late Jill Clayburgh engages in some salty sex talk, including an explanation of the act of “bird-bathing.” There are also a number of extended and alternate scenes, a fake commercial for Annie’s jewelry store employer, and three entirely excised sequences — the big one being a five-minute blind date scene featuring Wiig’s character with Paul Rudd, who experiences a character-revealing ice skating accident. Whatever your format of choice, this release is a home video collection keeper, for sure. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. A (Movie) B+ (Disc)
