BAD MOMS DELIVER
Trio’s chemistry makes comedy a raunchy and enjoyable diversion
As frothy and funny as it is forgettable, Bad Moms is also the latest proof that the humour gene is not exclusive to the Y chromosome. Additionally, it was intended to be a Judd Apatow production, which may also explain the raunchy quality of the comedy: It’s in its DNA.
Mila Kunis stars as Amy, whose days consist of work, parenting her two school-age kids, shopping (for food, not clothes) and not much else. But she’s underappreciated by her boss, her children, fellow parents who demand hours of PTA involvement, and her husband. In fact, her broken-straw moment comes when she walks in on him getting busy with his iMistress. The I’m-not-going-to-take-it-anymore movie has a long history, with a litany of “Bad” protagonists — Teacher, Santa, Grandpa, Lieutenant, even News Bears. Amy decides to get bad by not trying: She cuts back her hours at her job (which is only supposed to be part-time anyway), stops taking the kids to extracurriculars they hate and trades the family minivan for her husband’s muscle car, which he somehow forgot to take when she kicked him out. Oh, and she targets her libido on Jessie (Jay Hernandez), the local hot widower.
And because bad things come in threes, she hooks up with two more moms: divorced Carla (Kathryn Hahn), who admires the fact that Amy can do things like remember her children’s birthdays, and meek Kiki (Kristen Bell), whom you just know will burst out of her shell by the time the credits roll, 98 minutes later.
The chemistry among these three propels the rest of the picture, as they enjoy their new-found badness (the grocery-shopping montage is one for the ages) and plot how to take down PTA queen bee Gwendolyn (Christina Applegate), the school’s administrative dictator and biggest bully. Gwen’s own two sidekicks are far less amusing, but maybe that’s part of the plan of writers and directors Jon Lucas and Scott Moore.
The film has its faults — not least that it paints the other 99 per cent of moms as sheep to be led by whoever winds up running the PTA. Also, if you don’t think slow motion is an overused effect — well, you might change your mind by the 17th over-cranked scene.
And of course every comedy needs its heartfelt emotional beats, but the ratio seems a little sincerity-heavy. And honestly, there’s a clever sequence during the end credits that takes care of that all on its own.
But these are minor quips. The comic timing is nigh-perfect, whether it’s the names of Gwendolyn’s children (Blair and Gandhi) or the movie the moms go to see, which is the best fake-film-within-a-film since Daniel Radcliffe starred in The Dogwalker inside Trainwreck.
Also, props to Hahn for delivering a line that sounds positively Churchillian, if Sir Winston were an inebriated, potty-mouthed mom taking on the Eltern-Lehrer Vereinigung.
Really, though, all these characters need to do is realize what movie they’re in.
Once they voice that title out loud, the plot drives itself. You could do worse than hop on and enjoy the ride.