I wanted to enjoy Bachelorette, but it really isn’t that funny, daring, clever, or interesting. What Kirsten Dunst is doing in this movie, I don’t know. Did she think it would be amusing to follow Melancholia with this low-budget romp? Actually, I preferred this movie to Melanch0lia, but that is only because I utterly despised that pretentious tedious Lars von Trier mess. The first problem was the criminal under-use of Rebel Wilson. We don’t need such a heavy-handed Bridesmaids reference, but if you are going to drag her into the show, give her a meaty role worthy of her monster talent. Though penned and directed by lady Leslye Headland, the movie ultimately lacks the credibility of authentically written female friendships. These girls knew each other in high school, but don’t have much in common now other than their love of blow and fond memories of shared bathroom-stall bulimia. The relationships lack genuine affection. Many long-enduring female friendships go through periods of love and hate, sometimes simultaneously. Bachelorette gets the hate part right, but that’s too simple and tidy an explanation for the messy, complicated truth of girlfriends, especially the shit that gets stirred up before one of the group gets married. Give me a reason to care about these bulimic coke whores. I’m not suggesting you skip Bachelorette all together, but keep your expectations modest to avoid disappointment. Skirt the hassle of the theater and view it on demand.
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