PROMISING YOUNG WOMAN (B) - This stylized revenge story is too coy and cartoonish to be taken completely seriously, but it flaunts an appealing style and spins a tight, clever narrative that keeps you hooked until its provocative ending. That clever plotline is not without a few idiot-plot pitfalls, and as such it must rely on the appeal of Carey Mulligan to drag us along as we follow the story of a sullen medical-school dropout who devotes her underwhelming existence to entrapping men who prey on drunk women.
However, what is supposed to be a feminist howl from debut writer-director Emerald Fennell is undercut repeatedly by a obsession with candy-colored grrrl-power visuals and a fairly naive broad-brush depiction of "nice guys" as inveterate sexual predators. For all the eye candy, the world of Mulligan's brooding Cassandra is incredibly two-dimensional. As she turns 30, she works (or at least shows up) in a coffee shop and lives with her stuffy, emotionally constipated parents in their suburban museum of a house.
Haunted by the loss of her best friend Nina that followed a med-school rape scandal, Cassie, hollowed out by the crushing of their career dreams, honors Nina's memory by trolling dive bars, made up like a tart, faking being drunk and defenseless, luring a seemingly sympathetic gentleman to rescue her, and then, after the bros make their move, snapping out of it and slamming the men with a sober lesson in consent.
This all would feel more grounded in gravitas if it weren't for Fennell's decision to plop this into some sort of Lollipop Land of Powerpuff empowerment and cardboard villains. Fennell also fetishizes Mulligan, and not just when she is dressed to kill but also dolled in fuzzy tween sweaters and cracking gum, while sporting a puppy-dog look and dimples. Cassie is frequently depicted in stagey static shots, sitting or standing in stiff poses, an aura around her head, like a statue of a virtuous goddess (or the Angel of Death?). With her fluffy blond hair, Mulligan (also noticeably swallowing her British accent for a flat heartland affect) is treated not just like a Britney Spears type but like a Britney Spears doll -- is she supposed to be an inhuman revenge machine or a gutted victim-adjacent empath bereft of true feeling? What was she like before this? Cassie never comes across as a fully formed human being with thoughts and needs and desires of her own, and thus she is a flawed vehicle for telling a believable story. Allison Brie, as another classmate who had hoped not to be reminded of the assault, has more nuance and dimension in a mere couple of scenes, than Mulligan is allowed to manage during the whole film.
Cassie, reluctantly, connects romantically with a former med-school classmate (a funny Bo Burnham), who really does seem like a nice guy, but you don't have to be a film-school grad to figure out that he will be ensnared in Cassie's ultimate plot -- disrupting the bachelor party of their former classmate who raped Nina and is about to marry a bikini model. He and his privileged doctor friends will gather and revel, oblivious to how they were allowed to go on with their lucky lives.
Fennell has a final ace up her sleeve, and her ending, while barely grounded in plausibility, is deviously thought-out and delightfully juicy. It's a shame that she trips over her own ideas and sends out mixed signals all along the way to that rich comeuppance.
BARB & STAR GO TO VISTA DEL MAR (B-minus) - Whether you choose to see this and whether you enjoy it probably depends almost entirely on your opinion of Kristen Wiig. If you love or tolerate her, this is silly fun and a solid entry in her impressive portfolio. If not, don't bother.
Barb (Wiig's co-writer Annie Mumolo from "Bridesmaids") and Star (Wiig) are helmet-haired, culottes-clad suburban simpletons who decide to throw caution to the wind and indulge themselves with a trashy trip to an island resort. Improbably, they get unwittingly caught up in an "Austin Powers" style plot to infest the island with killer mosquitoes. The agent carrying that out is ruggedly handsome Edgar (Jamie Dornan, playing nicely off his more famous role in the "50 Shades of Grey" series), who takes orders from (and pines for) the evil albino mastermind (a nearly unrecognizable Wiig in a dual role).
Don't overthink this. Little of it makes sense, and that's mostly the point. Whenever Mumolo and Wiig paint themselves into a plot corner, they just make up something ludicrous and shrug to the next scene. The pair have a loose improv rapport, and they seem genuinely giddy to be working together. They are devoted to their goofy idea and vaudevillian characters, and both Barb and Star take their Hero's Journey through a classic story arc. They toss in musical numbers and even a sartorial deus ex machina that made me laugh out loud.
The supporting cast is in on the joke and the overall tone, especially Vanessa Bayer as a sadistic, fun-averse book-club leader. But in the end, this comes around to your appreciation for Wiig and her wackiness over the course of 107 mindless minutes.
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