LATE NIGHThusband (John Lithgow). Even her vaunted career isn’t the summit it seems—after ac-
cepting a lifetime achievement award, Katherine celebrates by slouching into a booth of
a nearby bar alone. Her shoes pinch. Her Spanx are cutting off her blood supply. Being
the only woman around isn’t all that cozy, it turns out.
Thankfully, a clutch of hilarious comedies—all written and directed by women,
all featuring heroines who have brown skin or are queer or Asian American or larger
than a size 0—have arrived this summer to shift the balance. Welcome to the woke
comedy revolution.
Take Netflix’s Always Be My Maybe, in which childhood best friends Sasha (Ali
Wong) and Marcus (Randall Park) sleep together as teens, fight, then part ways.
Upon reuniting 15 years later, they discover a tiny flame has been burning the whole
time. It’s a familiar-feeling rom-com, but it features two Asian leads. Apart from Crazy
Rich Asians, it’s basically the only one out there. The film’s cowriters, Wong, Park,
and screenwriter/playwright Michael Golamco (Cowboy Versus Samurai, Grimm),
take that honor seriously, littering the script with jokes about closefisted Asian par-
ents and everyday details that are striking simply because they’ve rarely appeared
onscreen—like when Sasha, ranting about an ex, snaps apart her disposable chop-
sticks and furiously rubs them against each other in a gesture known to any patron
of down-market Asian restaurants. This bouquet of cultural touchstones can feel a
little overwhelming at times, but one understated moment makes it all worthwhile.
A montage of a young Sasha and Marcus mugging in photo booths might be unre-
markable apart from its soundtrack, a cover of David Bowie’s “Young Americans.”
That’s who they are, of course, but they haven’t looked like that in the movies before.
Olivia Wilde’s scampy, joyous feature film directorial debut, Booksmart,
sweeps the spotlight over nerdy girls coming of age in a refreshing twist on the
straight-male-dominated genre. High school valedictorian and class president Molly
(yes, another Molly, played by Beanie Feldstein, whose cherubic face is perfectly
punctuated by an overachiever’s laser-beam eyes) and her BFF Amy (played by Kaitlyn
Dever with a knife-through-the-heart level of awkwardness) are straight-A students
whose pregraduation plans include binge-watching a Ken Burns documentary. (Af-
terward, Molly will head off to Yale, and Amy to Botswana for some gap-year aid
work, naturally.) But when Molly overhears her classmates’ unflattering opinions
of her in the gender-neutral restroom, she lets Amy know there’s been a change of
plans: “The Dust Bowl can wait!” They are going to party. And as the duo’s Good Ship
Self-Discovery grounds itself on kooky detours and hallucinogenic highs, Breakfast
Club–esque epiphanies light their way. The mean girl? Not really mean—just cynical
and bullied. The basket case? Okay, maybe Billie Lourd’s transcendentally bizarre
Gigi is a pure weirdo, but she’s also loyal as hell. Taking Booksmart to some of its
most tender territory, though, is Amy’s intense crush on Ryan (Victoria Ruesga), a
cheerful, mop-topped skater girl. Infatuation leads her down a twisty road of tension
and disappointment, but ultimately pays off in a classic “geek gets the girl” moment.
Booksmart feels gossamer-light, but its achievement is weighty. Go ahead, take
the scant seconds you’ll need to count the teen comedies that center on a queer girl’s
longings. Or, for that matter, the number of mainstream rom-coms with Asian leads.
Or brown women breaking barriers in late night (oh, hello, Lilly Singh). Thank good-
ness for new ideas about who gets to be, learn, love, and joke in Hollywood. Here, at
last, are three films that prove what was obvious to so many of us for so long—that
anyone can be funny, and earn a happy ending, too.
Escape the heat—and the multiplex
crowds—with these excellent indies.WILD ROSE
When Rose-Lynn Harlan leaves prison after a yearlong
sentence, one of the first things she does is change
outfits. She yanks on cowboy boots over a court-ordered
ankle bracelet and shimmies into a fringed leather jacket.
The 23-year-old is a born-and-bred Glaswegian, but she
bleeds Nashville through and through, courtesy of a set of
powerhouse pipes. Irish actress Jessie Buckley—who placed
second on the British musical-theater reality TV show I’d
Do Anything—brilliantly plays the obstinate mother of two,
who struggles to fit her country-music dreams into her life
of blue-collar domesticity. Rounding out the exceptional
cast are Oscar nominee Julie Walters (Billy Elliot) and Sophie
Okonedo (Hotel Rwanda).—Brianna KovanTHE SOUVENIR
It’s the early ’80s in London, and Julie, a shy, curious film
student played with measured grace by newcomer Honor
Swinton Byrne (daughter of Tilda and John), longs to tell a
mother-son story set in the working-class shipyards of
Sunderland, on England’s northeast coast. She comes from
a much more privileged background, she admits, “but I
want to be really aware about what’s going on around me.”
Meanwhile, an intriguing yet deceptive suitor threatens
to undermine her charmed existence under the cloak of
fancy meals, a job with the Foreign Office, and trips to
Venice. Humming along beneath the subdued depravity
in writer-director Joanna Hogg’s cinematic memoir is
a familiar, if diminishing, feeling—the electricity of the
unknown. There’s comfort to be had in submitting to a slow
leak of information (often through one-sided telephone
conversations) and restful, lingering shots of a gray-skied
horizon, both of which contribute to a general feeling of
being stoned and a little unsure of one’s own place in the
world.—Melissa GianniniFILM STRIPS
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