“Forgetting Sarah Marshall” is the latest entry into the Apatovian house of self-deprecating wonders and, in my opinion, a lot sharper and more broadly accessible than last year’s adolescent sex frolic “Superbad.” Written by and starring Jason Segel, this film approaches all of the tension and awkward nuances surrounding a breakup in such a sensible way that every painfully funny piece of dialogue rings true in one way or another. The essential element of any Apatow production is the indispensability of every character, so when you combine the exceptional talents of Segel, Paul Rudd, Bill Hader, and Jonah Hill, the possibility of experiencing one of the funniest pictures ever made is significantly elevated.
Here, Segel plays Peter Bretter, a flailing twenty-something musician devoted to laying around, eating Fruit Loops, and maintaining serious aspirations to compose a Dracula-inspired rock opera featuring hand puppets. His dream relationship with television hottie Sarah Marshall (Kristen Bell) comes to an abrupt end when she tells him she’s found someone else, but certainly not before he subjects her (and the audience) to his own version of the full monty. So where does a guy with no girlfriend, limited financial comfort, and dwindling career prospects go to alleviate his suffering? Hawaii, of course!
Ah yes, Hawaii. The quintessential backdrop for any single guy looking to score as well as a jackpot of comedic possibility. What could possibly go wrong? Well, upon checking into his hotel, Peter is shocked to find Sarah and her new love interest staying at the exact same location, so it appears that every move he makes just brings him closer and closer to reliving the extreme heartbreak. Luckily, the stunningly gorgeous Rachel (Mila Kunis) is working the front desk and interested in helping Peter forget about the agonizing stretch spent watching Sarah fall for a sex-addicted British rock star. Their budding relationship is odd, sweet, and ripe with enough laugh-out-loud moments to satisfy even the most skeptical filmgoer.
Every great comedy has that one moment where its excellence is solidified and, for me, the scene in which Segel performs a raucous number from his opera while out with Rachel earns that distinction. The concept is so madcap that only in another Apatow film would you be likely to find something as silly and off the wall, so I have to hand it to Segel for fearlessly putting his inner nerd on display.
Is it better than “Knocked Up?” Maybe, but I’ll have to see it a second time before making any definitive judgments. I will say that if you found yourself in fits over Jonah Hill’s creepy obsession in “Superbad,” chances are you’ll feel right at home during this every minute of this flick’s sidesplitting antics.
- *** ½ out of 4
There’s a scene toward the middle of Gus Van Sant’s “Paranoid Park” in which a group of fearlessly disaffected skateboarders are marching down the hall of their high school as if they actually buy into all that us-against-the-world riffraff. I mean, the only thing missing from that sensationalistic setting is the agitating lyrical precision of Iggy Pop and the Stooges to further shine a light on how these societal dissidents have been disrespected by mainstream commercialism. Their sole purpose at this point in time is to chill at the park and act in a manner that will preserve whatever shred of self-identity they have left, so while parents are often heard, they’re rarely seen.
That said, Van Sant’s film is actually one of the more intriguing pictures to come along so far this year. His scope is cleverly centered around a conflicted youth named Alex, who inadvertently causes the death of a security guard while hopping a train one night after leaving the skate park.
The remorse steadily builds as the police arrive to question anyone who might’ve been skating that night, but Alex is too fixated on the consequences to confess to anyone, let alone New York’s finest. Not even his girlfriend can pry any valuable information out of him, so their relationship doesn’t appear to be something either of them are too wholeheartedly committed to maintaining.
If this sounds like a rather bleak film, that’s because it is. Van Sant has become increasingly dedicated to the art house frame of mind and tries to distance himself from anything resembling a money-making studio picture. The skateboarding shots are filmed in a very grainy, back alley fashion as if to give a shout out to all the “Lords of Dogtown” devotees who just can’t get enough, so unless you’re a serious skater or an avid cinephile, may I suggest spending time on something with explosions and a drastically quicker pace.
- *** out of 4
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