Crass, crude, foul-mouthed comedies have been all the rage at the movies for some time now, with the trendiest comedians from any given year dropping F-bombs, and spouting off rapid-fire fraternity jokes in their (almost always nudity-obsessed) star vehicles. Wet Hot American Summer and The State co-creator Michael Showalter‘s latest offering, Hello, My Name Is Doris, is the perfect antidote to the unending strain of Apatow offshoots: It balances classy, screwball comedy, bone-deep drama, and old-fashioned romance with the finesse of an Olympic gymnast. For once, it’s a rom-com with aims of enchanting and disarming us rather than grossing us out of our minds.

The film’s greatest boon is its star, Sally Field, an actor of age who puts on a performance so range-y, powerful and tender that it all but wipes today’s young, sparkling starlets from memory. She plays Doris, a sixtysomething recluse who’s lived in her mother’s cluttered house in Staten Island her whole life. Doris falls into lonely despair when her mother passes away but thankfully has her job as a paper pusher to keep her busy during the day. She’s the only person over 40 at her company though her role as office outcast could be more attributed to her cat-lady eccentricities (cat-eye glasses, headscarves, wooly knits and all).

Hope of getting Doris unstuck from her rut arrives in the form of her company’s new art director, a strapping, decades-younger Los Angeles transplant amusingly named John Fremont (New Girl‘s Max Greenfield). On several occasions, we get lost with Doris in fantasy as she daydreams about John confessing his love for her in front of their colleagues and hooking up with him in the breakroom. Field is ungodly adorable as she fumbles and fawns, and Greenfield does a good job of keeping us in suspense as to whether or not Doris has got a shot at John’s heart.

With encouragement from her best (only) friend, Roz (Tyne Daly)—who takes her to a life-altering lecture by motivational speaker Willy Williams (Peter Gallagher)—Doris decides it’s time to make a change and begins fashioning herself to John’s interests (facilitated by Roz’s granddaughter, who schools her on the art of Facebook stalking), making a concerted, somewhat creepy effort to cougar her way into John’s arms. Suddenly, she’s clumsily throwing around millennial slang, rocking neon yellow outfits and going to indie electro-pop shows headlined by John’s favorite band, Baby Goya and the Nuclear Winters (where the two “coincidentally” bump into each other).

Just as a tight friendship starts to form between them and the thought of romance doesn’t seem so inconceivable, John meets another woman, bringing Doris’ dreams crashing down. In a drunken fit of desperation, she sabotages John’s new relationship (via a lovelorn timeline post from her fake Facebook account), a plan that naturally backfires and leads to even more heartbreak. Showalter and co-writer Laura Terruso—who directed the short the movie is based on as a student of Showalter’s at New York University—hit every romantic, comedic, and dramatic beat so well that the movie transcends genre. This makes for such an enjoyable experience because, instead of trying to predict where the story’s going, we’re allowed to let go of preconception and go wherever the emotions may take us. Every laugh, every heartbreak, every moment feels sincere, not hokey or contrived. Nothing’s cheap; everything’s earned. The movie’s liberating in that way.

Field is so talented it’s scary. It should go without saying—she’s a two-time Oscar winner, after all—but the sad reality is that female actors over 50 are typically relegated to secondary, tertiary, often motherly roles. Her career, tragically, supports that narrative. But that’s why Hello, My Name Is Doris is such a gift; in all her glory, we get to see Field showcase her unparalleled mastery of physical comedy (watching Doris quiver and drool as John pumps up her deflated gym-ball office chair is insanely funny) as well as her earth-shattering dramatic chops. In the movie’s most powerful, unsettling scene, Doris hops up onto her couch, screaming at her brother (Stephen Root) to leave her house as she tearfully refuses to clear out the piles of old magazines and expired food her mother left behind. It’s scenes like this that reveal the psychological complexity bubbling beneath Doris’ cartoonish exterior. Such a wonderfully weird, layered character is only safe in the hands of an actor of Field’s caliber.

It’s been some time since Michael Showalter‘s Hello, My Name Is Doris premiered at SXSW 2015, where the film’s seasoned star, Sally Field, made waves with an outstanding performance as the titular, socially invisible cat-lady, who we follow as she lusts after her significantly younger co-worker (Max Greenfield). As would be expected considering Showalter’s resume (he co-wrote the great Wet Hot American Summer), the film is exceptionally funny; watching awkward Doris stalk her prey is adorable and awkward and hilarious. But what’s special about the movie is that Field not only makes us laugh, but finds incredible depth in a role that, ostensibly, is a walking cliché. One of the sad realities of the movie business is that actors of age as gifted and experienced as Field are rarely afforded meaty starring roles. But, thanks to Showalter, we’ve got this terrific little film that showcases Field and her talent full-force.

We sat down with Showalter and Field in a roundtable interview to talk about the film, which hits theaters today!

I love Doris as a character. Sally, what was your immediate reaction to her?
Sally: When I read the screenplay, I loved it. I said to my agents, “I want to do this.” They said, “You should meet Michael. What if you don’t like him?” We met, and immediately he said…

Michael: It was about the comedy.

Sally: We were addressing how you can blend both of those arenas.

Michael: The big question for her was, how are you going to do all this slapstick, screwball comedy stuff—the ball pumping scene, the dancing—with this really intense, sad stuff? I don’t want to water either one down to make it a fine line. I want the comedy to go all the way. We want to play every level as loud or as soft as we want. She did ultimately map out a way. She’s crying her eyes out in the scene where she gets drunk, but it’s this sort of dramatic, feeling sorry for herself kind of crying. In the scene where the brother-in-law comes to the house, that’s a different kind of crying. That’s all the way deep down in her. It was about figuring out all these different shades of this character and how to piece it all together so we weren’t repeating ourselves.

The film feels like a perfect antidote to the kind of issue that was addressed in the Inside Amy Schumer sketch that gave that shout-out to you and your career arc. I was wondering if that was a part of the appeal of this character. Here’s a character who’s not defined as a wife, as a mother. She’s discovering her vitality, really.
Sally: The appeal of the screenplay and the character wasn’t in that it’s a “not.” It was such a unique person. A three-dimensional character that really talked about how there are all these stages in life. People always think, “Well, there’s the childhood stage—we know what kind of development goes on there. You don’t know where to put your feet down because you’re a child. Then, there’s adolescence…everyone knows what a tough stage that is. Then, there’s young adulthood—you’ve got relationships and children and a career.” The thing is, those stages go on into your 30s, your 40s and 50s and 60s and 70s and 80s and 90s. Every one of them is this new place that you arrive. When you’re older, society doesn’t let you feel, “I don’t know what I’m doing! I don’t know where to put my feet! I’m brand new and I’m too old to be this new!” That is, in a lot of ways, what this film is.

That is, in a lot of ways, what this film is. She has arrested development, yes. And she’s in her sixties, having a kind of adolescence, a birth of her own voice, her own vision of who she is, what she wants. It has to do with her mother passing away, so her life is just changing whether she wants it to or not. That is something that I really responded to, as well as the fact that age is such a weird thing. Inside, whether you’re 20, 30, 40, 50, 60…you’re still who you are. Who you are is lodged there. Human beings need to make contact with other human beings, so sometimes they don’t match, chronologically. If [Doris had] been the man and he’d been female…

Michael: It’d be Bad Grandpa.

Sally: [laughs] It’d be an Audrey Hepburn movie.

Michael: There’s a line from the movie Grey Gardens where the mother is in bed and Edie’s doing something and the mother says something to the effect of, “I lived my life.” The implication was, I may be crazy and living alone in this crazy house with a million cats, but she’s even worse because I actually had a life! I didn’t start living this way until I got way older. But Edie never even had a life! I did stuff, so I have an excuse to be this way. It’s so sad for Edie. It’s such a dig at her. That line resonated for me, and a lot of that is in this story. What Doris sacrificed for her mother was her whole life! It wasn’t just that—I think you learn in the brother scene that there were gender politics, but these were not areas the movie was going to delve into. But it was very real.

Sally: I always thought Doris was predisposed to be a hider anyway. I always saw her mother as being a big personality who took all the air out of a room. So Doris got smaller and smaller. Her mother was much more of a hoarder, so she’d bring home this stuff to please her mother. There was an injured part of Doris that preferred to hide. I recognized that, and sometimes it takes change to force you out of your own comfort zone. I don’t think she’s, like, a victim within it because I think in a lot of ways she was predisposed to be this way, and they were her choices. She could have walked away. She could have said, “You know what, Mom? Let’s see if I can earn enough money and get someone to look in on you. I’ve got some dating to do.” But she chose not to for a reason. Part of her couldn’t heal.

I think, right now, mean-spirited comedies are sort of fashionable. The humor in your movie is more classic, screwball stuff. We laugh at Doris, but it’s out of recognition. Like, when she’s daydreaming about her crush, we laugh because we’ve all been there. We’ve all liked someone like that. It’s good-natured.
Michael: The comedies I loved were not mean-spirited. I grew up on the comedies of the 70s and early 80s, which were silly—Steve Martin movies, Python, Woody Allen, Airplane! My comedic sensibility is really just silly and light and broad. Physical comedy. I love slipping on a banana peel and stuff like that. That’s always been my sensibility. I just really like silliness. It’s just my own aesthetic.

We mentioned the Amy Schumer sketch earlier in which she used your career to comment on how a female actor of age’s value is unjustifiably tied to her age. Do you find that perception to be accurate?
Sally: Of course. I feel like that’s accurate in show business and accurate in most of society. In this country, ageism for women, not necessarily for men, is a deterrent. You’re talking about show business, but it’s hard for women in every arena. It’s not getting any better. If you add any other ingredient on top of being female, like being of color, and then you add age…The statistics on all of that, of those who participate and whether they be in front of the camera or behind the camera, are pretty horrifying. They do not reflect where we are in society. I think the world has something to work on when it comes to empowering and bringing women to the table. Unless we can do that, the whole world will not heal. We’re out of balance.

CJ and Bernard tackle the #OscarsSoWhite controversy on this week’s episode, delving into the complexities of the pre-awards show debacle and the larger social issue it stems from. To help balance out the heavy shit, we’ll check in on Darth Dissenter himself as he finally shares with us his thoughts on Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Better late than never! Plus, Bernard fills us in on a mildly traumatic experience he had involving the legendary Sally Field. All that, plus our Indie Picks of the Week, on this episode of the Way Too Indiecast!

Topics

• Indie Picks (3:10)
• CJ’s Star Wars: The Force Awakens Thoughts (13:49)
• Bernard’s Sally Field Incident (26:35)
• #OscarsSoWhite Debacle (39:43)

Articles Referenced

• Cartel Land Review
• Cartel Land Interview
• Star Wars: The Force Awakens Indiecast

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Writers David Wain and Michael Showalter won over audiences (though not critics) with their 2001 nostalgic summer-camp satire Wet Hot American Summer and attempt to repeat their success with their new rom-com parody They Came Together. The film pokes fun at just about every romantic comedy trope and cliché out there, but committing the same mistakes as the cookie-cutter genre it’s parodying isn’t ironic enough to justify laughs. Many of the punchlines are either beaten to death by repetition or are needlessly explained why they’re funny. And there’s nothing funny about that.

The film begins at a dinner table where Joel (Paul Rudd) and Molly (Amy Poehler) recall how the two of them met to their friends Kyle (Bill Hader) and Karen (Ellie Kemper). Right off the bat the film acknowledges that their story is very much like a corny romantic comedy, as if admitting their own corniness gives the film a free pass. Not long after the lovebirds start describing how they began to date, Kyle blurts out from across the table, “You weren’t kidding, your story really IS like a corny movie!”. Cue the eye rolls.

Both Joel and Molly had broken up with their significant others shortly before running into one other (literally) on their way to the same party. However, it was not love at first sight. The two start off on the wrong foot by getting into a loud argument after blaming the other for the collision. They definitely don’t seem right for each other. After all, Joel works at the Corporate Candy Company which threatens to shut down Molly’s small indie candy shop. Though in the very next scene the two instantly settle their differences in a book store upon discovering their love for the fiction genre. It’s suppose to be ridiculous, that’s the joke.

There are moments where the self-aware comedy works. One of the few laugh out loud moments is when Molly recites a paragraph of specific details while ordering a muffin, only to find out that the entire passage is actually verbatim on the menu. But unfortunately, many of the gags are simply exhausting. Case in point when Joel replies to a bartender, “You can say that again”, who then proceeds to repeat his line over and over until it becomes annoying. A similar instance occurs when someone shouts “swish” after every missed shot on the basketball court. It’s funny maybe once or twice, but definitely not on the fourth or fifth.

They Came Together certainly relies on the undeniable charm of Rudd and Poehler. Maybe a bit too reliant. Both actors do their best with the material, at times elevating the writing better than anyone else could, though even their great comedic chemistry is not enough to save the film. Perhaps that’s why Wain gathers an army of an ensemble including appearances from Ken Marino, Jason Mantzoukas, Ed Helms, Melanie Lynskey, Max Greenfield, Jack McBrayer, Kenan Thompson, and even Judge Judy. These are all welcoming additions but unfortunately all the talent goes to waste with the weak script.

Even a with a short-and-sweet runtime of 83 minutes, They Came Together overstays its welcome with repetitive jokes. The real kicker is many of those jokes weren’t all that great to start with. For example, there is a running joke that New York City plays SUCH an important role in the film that it’s almost a character itself. I suppose this is a dig towards Woody Allen for claiming the city is its own character in his rom-com Manhattan, but I think the joke will mostly fall on deaf ears. They Came Together tries too hard to become a self-aware parody that it forces its humor, generating much less laughs than expected.

Those who understand and appreciate the humor of David Wain and Michael Showalter have no doubt been anticipating They Came Together, the first film the duo has worked on together since Wet Hot American Summer, their TV endeavors aside. (Fans will be happy to hear that in the Q&A following the premiere the duo said a Wet Hot American Summer prequel is in the works). To appreciate their comedy means also appreciating those they pay homage to, the spoof films of Mel Brooks and Jim Abrahams, who perfected the craft of effectively using films to make fun of films with a distinctly self-aware humor. They Came Together, rather than directly parodying romantic comedy films (though there are some obvious references dashed about the film), seeks to poke fun at the entire genre, incorporating almost every major romantic film cliché there is. What makes it more effective than say an outright parody film like Date Movie, is it’s use of major comedic talent and that Wain/Showalter touch that, though sometimes baffling and always ridiculous, almost always elicits a laugh.

The film is about Joel (Paul Rudd) and Molly (Amy Poehler) as they tell the story of how they met to two friends at dinner (Ellie Kemper and Bill Hader). Set in New York City (which is repeatedly jabbed at as the “third main character” of the film), Joel works for a large corporate candy company and Molly operates a small candy store. Joel is just getting over his smoking-hot ex (Cobie Smulders) who cheated on him with his successful co-worker. Molly has also recently broken up with her boyfriend and turns down her accountant’s advances (played by Ed Helms) to focus on herself. When friends try to set them up at a Halloween party they run into each other on the way there and instantly dislike each other. It isn’t until they see each other later at a book store where they discover a mutual love for (gasp) fiction books that Molly agrees to a date and their romance begins. From there almost every romantic film cliché appears. She’s lovably klutzy. He’s a responsible older brother, caring for his aimless sibling (Max Greenfield). They fight over family differences (hers are all white supremacists, whoops) and break up. He finds solace in his ex, she tries dating her accountant, eventually leading up to a wedding that needs breaking up and a solid ten minutes of every romantic movie ending they could fit in.

Wain and Showalter prove once again there is no joke they won’t beat to death, going just over the line enough to bring it back to life. It’s a humor that revels in straddling the line between ridiculous and ridiculously funny. The two delight in the humor of repetition and certain scenes take it to the point of exhaustion. Those who don’t find it funny, will find it utterly obnoxious. Much of the film’s success relies on the impeccable chemistry between Pohler and Rudd, two actors well aware of each other’s methods by now and perfectly cast in their stereotypical roles. It’s idiocy for the sake of idiocy, but has so much charm and excellent timing that this reviewer’s funny bone was tickled for 90 minutes straight.

If you aren’t laughing, you’ll probably be shaking your head, but there are very few people in this world not won over by Paul Rudd and Amy Poehler. Let’s be honest, we’d watch them read the phone book.