O Promise Me…that the summer will be filled with movies as good as
this one. So much more than the Apatow-for-girls R-rater I was
expecting. From the first shot — nakedly graphic but ridiculous sex
between Kristen Wiig and Jon Hamm — there were guffaws coming out of
me like the bodily fluids from the food poisoning scene. The ads and
poster (and the title) indicate an ensemble piece, and it is in the
sense that its very large cast is so well cast even tiny parts
sparkle. (Michael Hitchcock, when is someone going to give you a
showcase?) But super as hefty tomboy Melissa McCarthy and “straight
man” Maya Rudolph and sensitive-guy Chris O'Dowd are, this is really a
star vehicle, and it's Wiig's story all the way through. She's risen
to the occasion (and to her credit as co-writer) by taking what makes
her so funny in sketch comedy and humanizing it. (Don't worry; she's
still a scream.) A two-hour comedy is a difficult thing to pull off,
but this one never drags. And the end is quite touching. Lump in the
throat footnote: this was Jill Clayburgh's last film. — Jeff Schultz

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