Always a bridesmaid … always distasteful.

From top to bottom, Director Paul Feig’s BRIDESMAIDS is a coarsely disjointed effort that relies on the success of its jokes (which come across as one-liners dispensed at an evening of mediocre stand-up comedy) and the ability of its Writer/Producer/Star/Maid of (Dis)Honour, Annie (Kristen Wiig), to carry the film on her shoulders. In Wiig’s defense, as an alum of the Groundlings sketch comedy theater as well as a “Saturday Night Live” veteran, she makes for an impassioned headliner who seems at ease in carrying out a legion of uncomfortable improprieties. For one thing, BRIDESMAIDS immediately seems like an inappropriate title for the film given the fact that it commences with Annie and her on-again, off-again beau, Ted (Jon Hamm), engaging in over a half-dozen sexual gyrations in the first tenth of the film sprinkled with interspersed grunts, demands and other sounds of salaciousness. What is the purpose: to show how agilely kinky they are or unhesitatingly unsettle the audience - - because, and with no intention of sounding like a total prude, is it terribly funny or just graceless? At least any educated (or not) viewer could instantly anticipate the comedic awkwardness of THE 40-YEAR-OLD VIRGIN upon seeing its Writer/Producer/Star/grown-male protagonist curled up in his sheets in the opening shot of the film awaiting the buzz of his 7:00 AM alarm in a bedroom populated with STAR WARS and “Mystery Science Theatre” ephemera, action figures and a ball cap adorned with the image of Jack Skellington. Unfortunately, the joke’s on Annie as Ted deceitfully asks her to leave his plush pad whilst cunningly leaving the door open for future trysts. However, that his motorized driveway gate is literally closed prompting Annie to not only scale it to exit, but also engage in the walk of shame, reinforces the fact that she’s perpetually behind the eightball.

Annie has hit the bottom (and never seems to reach the top) of her personal and professional endeavors because of her consistent bad-life choices and inelegant remarks she shares with those in her orbit. That’s not to say that those in her network are more well-behaved than she, quite the contrary. Each character is distinctly branded and fulfills their abject personas whether it’s Annie’s mother (the late Jill Clayburgh) reciting objectionable commentary from her AA meetings or Annie’s invasive, British roommate Brynn (Rebel Wilson) pouring a bag of frozen peas onto her back to soothe the pain of a recent Mexican worm tattoo curving around her fleshy middle or Annie’s fellow bridesmaid, Megan (Groundlings alum, Melissa McCarthy), shamelessly admitting upon their first introduction that she’d “climb’ Annie’s Mistaken Fella (Hugh Dane) ‘like a tree”.

‘Pretty in pink’ these girls ain’t - - at times, they’re not so much crude as they are downright cruel. It’s when Annie addresses a brusk, young female customer in her jewelry shop with the universally reprehensible four-letter “c” word does her boss, Don Cholodecki (“MADtv” veteran and Groundlings alum, Michael Hitchcock), permanently dismiss her from his employment. Annie’s temper tantrum at the gift-giving ceremony provoked by her jealousy of fellow, upper-crust bridesmaid, Helen (Rose Byrne), is wickedly over-the-top as she initially criticizes those responsible for its event coordination followed by her personally destroying the French-themed (‘her idea’) regalia at the bridal shower. The film also dips into the bowels of scatological humor with a bit of retching thrown in for good measure when the girls and the bride-to-be mix upset stomachs due to badly prepared Brazilian food with the sterile surroundings of an upscale wedding dressmaker shop. But in all seriousness, is there anything more detestable in mainstream cinema than Rob Reiner’s classic “barf-o-rama” featured in his STAND BY ME?

Fashioners of contemporary comedies seem as if they’re constantly trying to out-do each other by inexhaustibly pushing the level of raunch to new heights - - or shall I say, lows. It now seems so very long ago that screwball comedy mavens like Carole Lombard, William Powell, Lucille Ball, Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell performed their roles from polished screenplays which were as timeless and literate (and extraordinarily funny) as those constructed by the Bard complemented by graceful, masterful direction from the likes of Howard Hawks, Gregory La Cava, Ernst Lubitsch, Leo McCarey, Preston Sturges and Billy Wilder … stand-up maestros such as George Carlin, Johnny Carson, Richard Pryor and (as of this review) living virtuosos like Ellen DeGeneres, Phyllis Diller, Eddie Izzard, Bob Newhart, Don Rickles and Chris Rock pepper their audiences with wit and laughter while skewering relevant topics (and often other living persons, politics and events) of the day with intense fervor and infallible timing without constantly spewing extraneous vulgarities to lower in dignity not only themselves, but more importantly, their audience, which nowadays seems commonplace.

Modern comedic filmmakers (save for Woody Allen, Albert Brooks, James L. Brooks, Mel Brooks [no relation between the triumvirate], Nora Ephron, Christopher Guest, Amy Heckerling, Reginald Hudlin, Mike Judge, Nancy Meyers, Bob Odenkirk, Rob Reiner, Trey Parker & Matt Stone, Keenen Ivory Wayans and a handful of others) remind me of chaperones supervising hyperactive children in a sandbox wherein its comedic elements are relegated to mockery, base human behavior of the lowest common denominator, obnoxious noise and distractions of color, props and other contrivances which has further extended virally into contemporary commercials and television shows, not to mention banner ads on the Internet. And like a sandbox, it consists of little depth and dimension; jokes, like sandcastles, which are molded to creation, crushed and recycled (lately, Hollywood has been imitating the British sandbox model e.g. "The Office") … and it looks like fun to play in for a half-hour and then gets really old, really fast. A hybridized (and bastardized) blend of reality-based entertainment with deadpan comedy seems to be the in vogue style (e.g. “The Office”; “Parks and Recreation”; “Modern Family”) where wooden insults are traded amongst characters more often than actual jokes. Bob Newhart, a first-class “straight man”, succeeded in his deadpan craft (in radio, television and film) because others around him displayed emotion to off-set his mental superiority and supposed smugness. With everyone performing in a similar wooden tone, for example, in “The Office”, makes its imaginary paper supply company, Dunder Mifflin, seem like a rather cold, un-funny and difficult situation and place with which to connect. If anything, the program would benefit from a laugh-track or ‘live studio audience’ to give it vitality and personality.

There isn’t much of a connection in the BRIDESMAIDS’ screenplay either. Most sequences and characters that occupy them seem like they’re inserted there as an excuse to introduce new talent found on the stand-up circuit. If not, they provide opportunities for movie-goers to spot notable alumni of The Groundlings or comedic veterans of stage and screen like bridesmaids Rita (Wendi McLendon-Covey) of “Reno 911!”; Becca (Ellie Kemper) of “The Office” who’s role here isn’t much of a departure from her mousy persona at Dunder Mifflin. And there’s Lillian (“Saturday Night Live” cast-member and Groundlings alum, Maya Rudolph) as the blushing bride to be wedded to muted Dougie (Tim Heidecker) of Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim program, “Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!”.

Although it’s not very funny to see a cameo by ‘90’s Grammy Award nominated group Wilson Phillips as they’re lampooned by the cast in a surprise concert during the wedding finale singing “Hold On”, it is a curiosity that earlier in the film during its excruciatingly overlong airline sequence that Annie quips to Flight Attendant Steve (Groundlings member, Mitch Silpa) that “It’s the ‘90’s.” It may be just me, but I thought it was much funnier when the cast of THE FORTY-YEAR-OLD VIRGIN (incidentally, voted by AFI as one of the Top Ten movies of 2005 and a stronger, more cohesive comedy than Feig’s film) broke out into a song-and-dance number of The Fifth Dimension’s “Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In” which was emblematic of Steve Carell’s affable Andy finally losing his virginity. “Hold On”? Personally, I couldn’t wait to be ‘let go’! Was there any significance of their performance other than Lillian being a fan of the band when she and Annie were growing up? It just felt rather insulting; as if they were being depicted as has-beens. Besides, it’s not the first time Wilson Phillips has been mocked by the “Saturday Night Live” team before.

When it’s all said and done, one might argue that BRIDESMAIDS succeeds as a “Brat Pack” film similar to those popularized by the late (great) Writer/Director, John Hughes; the caveat being that the script is a dull comparative and that it’s overflowing with raunch. THE BREAKFAST CLUB, also a Universal Studios Picture (now, merged with NBC is likely to keep generating crossover in their film, television and talent properties), likewise features five characters from disparate backgrounds introduced to each other through a pivotal event (high school detention vs. Lillian’s marriage) whose bond grows through the course (vs. coarse) of the film. The MPAA is certainly tested and harsh language is utilized to enhance the daring script by Hughes whereas Team Wiig/Mumulo’s screenplay (Annie Mumulo, a Groundlings alum and the “Nervous Woman on Plane” who foresees their plane going down) appears as if it’s an unending series of one-liners, curse words and non sequiturs. Come the final shot of the movie, metaphorically (and derogatorily, my apologies), it’s as if two pigs, Annie and her suitor, Officer Nathan Rhodes (Chris O’Dowd) are driving off in the patrol car. I like to think that Rhodes is using the tactic of taking a call to transport Annie to the police station to lock her up for the night to show her the error of her ways.

As an amusing side note, the Danish translation of the film’s title is BRUDEPIGER … that’s pretty funny happenstance.