Amy Schumer is a movie star.
The comedian is a hyphenate a hundred times over, a comedian-writer-producer-director-actress-feminist, a Peabody-winning, viral-speech-giving, backlash-to-the-backlash-surviving star. In the past week alone, Schumer saw her zeitgeist critical smash of a show, Inside Amy Schumer, get nominated for seven Emmys, more than Empire, Orphan Black and The Americans combined (Schumer is nominated for her acting, writing, and direction), and her first feature film, Trainwreck, which she wrote and stars in, open in theaters nationwide.
So it shouldn’t be a surprise that a (totally anecdotal, definitely not scientific) survey indicated that the crowds lining up for the romantic comedy were more likely to say they were seeing “the Amy Schumer movie” than they were to say “Trainwreck.” If the true definition of a movie star is a star who is bigger than the movie itself, then Schumer just grabbed herself the crown.
Schumer plays Amy, a writer at a men’s magazine — the perfectly-named S’nuff, where article ideas include “The Ugliest Celebrity Babies Under Six” and guides to jerking off at the office — who is dating a chiseled Crossfit trainer and having sex with whoever she wants on the side. Her editor (Tilda Swinton, who kills with a the-devil-wears-bronzer cattiness) assigns her a profile of a sports doctor, Aaron (Bill Hader, trading his Saturday Night Live cast of crazies to play the straight man to Amy’s wildness) who is best friends with LeBron James (…played by LeBron James, who has great comedic timing, because it’s not enough to be awesome at basketball, he has to be good at everything). Amy’s dad (Colin Quinn) has drilled in Amy and her sister, Kim (Brie Larson) that monogamy isn’t realistic, a worldview he instills through a hilarious, movie-opening monologue that compares adultery to his daughters’ desire to play with more than one doll.
Schumer has described in her often delightful and seemingly non-stop press tour how much of the movie is autobiographical. Amy of the movie, she’s said, is more than a little like Schumer was in her sophomore year of college; Schumer’s real sister is married and named Kim, her real parents did get divorced and remarried more than once, her real dad has multiple sclerosis and lives in an assisted living facility. There is that feeling here that Schumer squeezed lemon juice over every paper cut in her life, and the story is stronger for it.
Trainwreck is still a rom-com and, though Schumer’s script pushes boundaries of the form, it doesn’t burn them down. You will get your fix of meet-cute moments, perfect first kisses, growth through conflict, and valiant acts of love to bring the obviously meant for each other couple back together. But don’t hate the player when she is so good at this game. Schumer’s romantic comedy excels where so many fail: It is really, truly funny.
The movie lives in an in-between space between the comedy of Inside Amy Schumer — which can often be dark, twisted and graphic — and the candy-cuteness of typical rom-coms. Schumer has landed in that Goldilocks sweet spot: Characters swear, have casual sex, and talk like cleverer, funnier versions of people we know, but they also make grand romantic gestures and live in huge apartments in New York. But if you are already Team Schumer, Trainwreck will not disappoint. Her unedited voice shines through every scene; one bit, at her sister’s baby shower, is lifted almost verbatim from her standup.
And while Amy’s evolution hinges on the idea that she needs to drink less and commit to her boyfriend, the movie doesn’t come off as judgmental; the takeaway isn’t that women should feel dirty for drinking “too much” or having “too much” sex, but that this character, personally, knows she has crossed a line and isn’t engaging in behavior that furthers her own happiness.
Judd Apatow directed Trainwreck — he encouraged Schumer to write a screenplay after hearing her interview on Howard Stern — and it is heartening to see him continue to support female voices in comedy. (He executive produces Lena Dunham’s Girls and, as the ad campaign for Trainwreck would very much like you to remember, produced Bridesmaids, which was written by Kristen Wiig and Annie Mumolo.)
One recurring theme in Apatow’s work is that being together is better than being by yourself; marriage and procreation tend to rule the day, even when you know they really wouldn’t, and probably shouldn’t. (The fact that Katherine Heigl’s character keeps her baby/gets pregnant in the first place in Knocked Up comes most readily to mind). So it’s not clear if it’s his influence or if it’s just the nature of romantic comedies, but Trainwreck still abides by a pretty old school value system despite being a decidedly new school movie.
We are still left where many of these films leave us, with the hierarchy of happiness firmly in place: People who are married and have kids are at the top and single people are lower down, rough drafts on their way to the brass ring of matrimonial bliss. Marriage is a wonderful thing to want and work for — as they say, no union is more profound — but it is not the only thing worth wanting and working for. I do dream of the day when single people are not depicted in romantic comedies as slutty drunks who can only self-realize by settling down. This trope is not especially kind to the coupled, either: I am also tired of the “married people always look boring on the outside” thing, even though this dull exterior inevitably gets peeled back to reveal that those relationships are so much more meaningful and significant than the apparently-exciting-but-inwardly-hollow lives of singletons. Isn’t there room for happiness and unhappiness in all states of coupledom, in all stages of life?
But this line of thought does not intrude into the viewing experience of Trainwreck. Trainwreck is just good to allow your mind to wander. The only thing besides the movie you’ll be thinking about is how many days you have to wait until the next season of Inside Amy Schumer premieres.