Last night, I went to the AMC Multiplex in Edgewater to watch Bridesmaids, and I have to say, it was actually pretty good. I'm not just saying that because I finally banged Vicky from HR afterward. It wasn't your typical "chick flick" with treacly romance and hackneyed courtship...from what I could gather in between make-out sessions.
Bridesmaids has been billed as the female rebuttal to the slew of "bromance" movies that Judd Apatow et al have been pumping out over the last half decade. It seems to have worked, because the Kristen Wiig-led comedy far exceeded the $15-20 million opening weekend forecasted by analysts, instead raking in a healthy $26.3 million. I'm not surprised, because I would gladly pay 20 bucks every single day so that Vicky and I could "watch" it over and over again, if you know what I mean. If you don't know what I mean, I mean so that I can have sex with Vicky, which is what I did last night. After Bridesmaids. OK, just to be clear, I had sex with Vicky.
The story follows Annie (Kristen Wiig) whose bakery business has failed and relationship along with it. Life is further complicated when Lillian (Maya Rudolph) selects her to be her Maid of Honor for her upcoming wedding. Overwhelmed by the responsibilities the role entails, Annie starts to clash with one bridesmaid in particular: Helen (Rose Byrne). This is right around the time I noticed that Vicky's top slid down her shoulder, exposing her bra strap.
Bridesmaids upends the vaguely sexist term "chick flick" by generating bawdy vim of equal strength to its male counterparts while retaining its femininity. Sure, the film deals in stereotypes and clichés, such as the competitiveness of women and the way single women are condescended, but they are refreshed by piquant writing and relatable performances. In spite of the movie's success, critics and viewers, who are in general agreement about the quality of the film, seem to have almost exclusively overlooked its ability to get me laid. Twice.
Originally featured in the Daily Pygmy.