Where “Bridesmaids” tackled the subject of weddings and wrestled it in Jell-O, “Bachelorette” just kicks it right in the crotch.
Leslye Headland’s pitch-black comedy, featuring standout performances by Kirsten Dunst and Lizzy Caplan, regards ritualized romance as about as attractive as excess body fat. This is unfortunate on both counts for sweet, rotund bride-to-be Becky (Rebel Wilson), who’s invited her three high school besties to be at her side for the nuptials.
So-called pals Regan (Dunst), Gena (Caplan) and Katie (Isla Fisher) could also go by Bitchy, Slutty and Dopey, respectively. Once upon a time, they were known as the “B-Faces,” with Becky their naive sidekick (they gave her a cruel nickname in high school, which has lingered in malicious whispers behind her back).
Reunited for a wedding weekend in New York, these three veteran underminers immediately fall into familiar habits (“Gena brought cocaine!” Katie shrieks joyfully in their silent hotel lobby) and set about passive-aggressively ruining any sense of general goodwill in the wedding party.
The film is adapted from Headland’s 2008 play, and feels like it. Some of the best bits are monologues, such as a drunken deconstruction of oral-sex tactics, and a theory on how all men can be categorized as one of two “My So-Called Life” characters (is he a Krakow or a Catalano?)
As smart and popreferential as Headland’s writing is, it’s a little underwhelming when it comes to delivering on laughs. As George Carlin said, “Scratch any cynic, and you’ll find a disappointed idealist” — I have a sneaking suspicion, judging from the sentiment that begins to bubble up toward the end, that Headland isn’t as much of a hardened misanthrope as she thinks. This stops her from really going for the jugular in a way that made similar-territory movies like “Heathers” so memorable.
Still, the film does deliver a steady stream of enjoyably bad-to-worse antics, and gleefully amoral performances from Andrew Rannells (“Girls”) and James Marsden, who manages to make even a historical reference to Truman at Potsdam sound sleazy. Adam Scott (“Parks and Recreation”) is reunited with Caplan, who played his love interest in the cult show “Party Down,” and their comic timing is better than ever.
But surprisingly it’s Fisher’s dimwitted party girl who’s the most sympathetic. She may not be able to pronounce the name of her retail workplace (she calls it “Club Mo-NAH-co”), but there’s a sad statement about self-worth underneath the coke nosebleeds and the cleavage. She’s the end result of how, as Regan says, girls start to hate themselves at about age 12.
“Bachelorette” isn’t exactly therapeutic on that score, but it’s the only film I can recall actually saying it out loud.