Conceive Cute

OBVIOUS CHILD (B) - A movie with this many fart and shit jokes could never aspire to a higher grade, so kudos to comedian Jenny Slate for this solid B for her portrayal of a struggling standup comic facing a nagging choice after getting impregnated during a one-night stand.

This understated piece is the feature debut of Gillian Robespierre, fleshing out her 2009 short. In the style of recent vulgar female comedies, this one is mostly just potty-mouthed (much of it in Slate's act), although one woman threatens to take a crap in front of her best pal, and another character literally steps in dog shit on the sidewalk, which is supposed to be hilarious and precious.

That out of the way, Robespierre and Slate have crafted a slyly observed slice of life that yet again explores the day-to-day travails of our favorite granular demographic, 28-year-old white girls from Brooklyn, self-loathing Jew subdivision. And Slate is up to the challenge; she plays well at being messed up and chuckling through the pitfalls of the life of a poor single girl in the big city.

After being dumped (in a bathroom, get it?) by her boyfriend, Donna embarks on the cliched binge drinking and drunk dialing that filmmakers love. She follows that up with a drunken weekend hookup with Max (Jake Lacy), a preppie business-school grad who's totally not her type. It turns out that she's pregnant, and so she schedules an abortion on a date that happens to fall on Valentine's Day.

Slate succeeds in providing nuance to her character, and she seems to gain confidence as the movie progresses, flashing a range of emotions. She has a nervous laugh that helps get her through the day. That reflexive giggle brings to mind Pee-Wee Herman, who could be a distant uncle. She's a sad-sack little sister that you root for. And her humor, as rough as it is, charms.

Weeks after the hook-up, she runs into Max, and she can't bring herself to spill the beans about the potency of his sperm. After a few tries he loses interest, and Donna spirals into depression. You can probably guess the anti-rom-com rest. Slate and Lacy have surprisingly good chemistry, comedically if not romantically, which is sort of the point. The film likely would fall apart without their quality performances.

The supporting cast is strong. We get the requisite sassy gay best pal, fellow stand-up Joey, but at least he's genuinely funny as played by Gabe Liedman (a writer for "Inside Amy Schumer"). Her other pal is the level-headed Nellie (a reversal of roles for the wonderful Gaby Hoffmann, who was an airheaded screw-up in "Crystal Fairy" and TV's "Girls"). Richard Kind is always welcome, and here he finds the right tone as the loving father. David Cross, however, is flat as the club manager who makes the moves on Donna; Robespierre's script lets him down.

Robespierre has a voice, and Slate has talent. Let's see where they go next.

BONUS TRACKS
The cross is in the ballpark, the obvious theme song (with the pure joy of life captured between 3:30 and 4:00):



And this one, which I mistook for P.J. Harvey early in the film. It's Scout Niblett with "Nevada":