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In “Life of the Party,” Melissa McCarthy plays Deanna “Dee Rock” Miles, a divorcee in her forties who decides to go back to school with her daughter. The film is the latest Melissa McCarthy vehicle that fails to do justice to the incredible talent of its star.
A gentler, more sentimental, less outrageous version of “Back to School,” but with a female lead who sees herself as a failure rather than a success, and with consistent messaging about the virtues of sisterhood and respect across generations. The film’s concentrated aura of decency is unusual and welcome (college comedies tend to be far more cruel, dumb, and sleazy than this), but you might find yourself wishing there was more to it than what you saw on the screen. Not necessarily more plot, because many classic comedies, from W.C. Fields and the Marx Brothers to Steve Martin and Goldie Hawn, have little or no plot at all; but rather higher stakes, a dilemma, or more energy; more something. In terms of what’s onscreen, “Life of the Party” is a lighthearted comedy that you can take your mother to on Mother’s Day—which, to be fair, was absolutely the point of releasing the film on Mother’s Day weekend in the United States. Ben Falcone (McCarthy’s husband) directed and co-wrote the film, which is preoccupied with fulfilling McCarthy’s wish fulfillment fantasies to the point where it neglects to ensure that all of the other major characters are developed individuals rather than underdeveloped notions.
Gillian Jacobs’ character, a late-twentysomething known as Coma Girl because she has re-entered college after spending eight years in a coma, is a partial exception: she is a late-twentysomething who has re-entered college after spending eight years in a coma. She is not given many details by McCarthy and Falcone in their script, but their one good idea is strong enough, and Jacobs is so appealingly not-quite-there that she makes an impression even though she is not fully developed. It is just the right amount of screen time for Dee’s agoraphobic goth roommate Leonor (Heidi Gardner of “Saturday Night Live”), who appears to be staring at people through a series of dimensional portals, to appear in the film. As for Dee’s best friend Christine (Maya Rudolph), she is effective in small, regular doses of her full-throated heroine-worship.
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No one else in the cast, on the other hand, stands out because they’re all pretty clearly there to serve the heroine’s story and remind us on a regular basis what a wonderful, resilient, and all-around amazing person she truly is. Melissa McCarthy’s character in “Life of the Party” is made to be so warm and lovable and indomitable and altogether irresistible that even when life knocks her down, we know she’ll get right back up and do the butter churn dance, mangle the language, free-associate, and do whatever else she’s known for. The script doesn’t put many actual obstacles in Dee’s way to graduation; instead, it uses speed bumps to get her there.
Life Of The Party Quiz
Maddie Miles (Molly Gordon), Dee’s daughter, quickly gets over the awkwardness of seeing her mother on campus; she and her friends adopt Dee as their mascot and sort-of-foster-mom, and they serve as her mobile cheering squad on the field. In front of the entire class, Dee’s archeology professor (Chris Parnell), a former classmate, publicly proclaims her the best student in the class and never strays from that position. After meeting a much younger boyfriend (Luke Benward’s Jack), Dee finds herself in a relationship with someone who is less than half her age, but who can’t get enough of her adoration and publicly adoration, all while Christine lustily cheers them on. If the film were centered around, say, Paul Giamatti and his best friend played by Steve Carell, I’m willing to bet this particular element would fall flat; however, that’s a thought experiment for another time.)
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Despite this, the film, for some reason, is unable to fully embrace the state of pure gossamer niceness. When it comes to “conflict,” it uses canned elements that feel like they were ripped out of previous, equally mediocre college comedies to make its point. A group of mean girls taunt and mock Dee from time to time (adult bullies in these kinds of films rarely have any inner life or subtlety; they just snort and snipe like preteens), but the film lacks the guts to follow through and fully pay off the tension created by the situation (this subplot sputters, then briefly explodes, then neutralizes itself). Our daughter Dee is inducted into a sorority, but after that, we don’t spend much time in the house at all. He claims to be so terrified of public speaking that it makes her physically sick, but she can bust out killer dance moves in a heartbeat, improvise her way out of a tight spot with ease, and tell Jack straight to his face with admirable gentleness that he’s wonderful but they’re never going to be in a real relationship with each other. The blithe inconsistency of Dee’s character would not be a problem if the film had not been constructed almost entirely around her personality. This one, on the other hand, is.
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McCarthy is a flame-roasted marshmallow that is both sweet and scorching, operating in the same absurdist danger zone as male predecessors such as John Belushi, Steve Martin, and Jim Carrey, and carrying movies across the finish line at the box office solely on the strength of her charisma and physical ability. McCarthy is a flame-roasted marshmallow that is both sweet and scorching. She has a few memorable moments in this film; I’m particularly fond of the terrified expression she makes during her sorority initiation, which I believe would have terrified Edvard Munch. In addition, the party at the end is enjoyable.
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McCarthy’s solo work, on the other hand, has been hit or miss ever since she stole the show in “Bridesmaids” and became American cinema’s first zaftig superstar: unfortunately, it’s been more miss than hit. The issue is one of concentration and ferocity. For the most part, McCarthy is excellent in films with clearly defined concepts, such as “Spy.” She is also excellent when she is sharing slapstick duties with equally brilliant colleagues (as in the “Ghostbusters” remake), or when she is mixing things up by giving a more low-key, realistically shaded performance (as in “St. Vincent,” a so-so film that was saved by its cast). However, when she is simply filling time by doing things, as she is here, she never rises above the level of mere likability, and the end result feels like a waste of both her and our precious time. She is far superior to the material she is working with, and because she is the one who provided the material, there is only one person she can hold responsible.
For more personality quizzes check this: The Nutcracker And The Four Realms Quiz.
