Amy Poehler writes, stars and directs and she should be thoroughly ashamed for this risible effort. The plot, as it is, involves six 50 something woman who met as waitresses in Chicago and are now embarking on a trip to the Napa Valley to celebrate one of their half centuries.
The group are your expected ragtag of pushy, dominated, frustrated, worried, disillusioned - basically everything that will attract a scintilla of empathy from the audience. Not this viewer - they all came across as a right pain in the arse to me.
They rent a large house off a disinterested Tina Fey whose character isn’t so much underdeveloped as non-existent. They have her dressed like MacGruber throughout - I have no idea if this was a deliberate Saturday Night Live homage. Poehler plays Abby who is the organised and pushy one of the group. She’s always bossing everyone about and is super confident so it’s no surprise that she is hiding some issues.
She has to wait her turn though, as another has designs on a younger lady artist, another is mousy and hates her husband, another is too focused on her job and yet another is awaiting cancer test results.
Slowly over the weekend the girls have madcap adventures such as getting pissed at a winery and annoying people, and shagging the help in the shape of an ‘I’m doing it for the money’ Jason Schwartzman.
After a few emotional moments the girls’ issues all come to the fore - will they fall out or be stronger for the experience? Seriously, have a guess!
This was a gawd awful waste of time, apart for the cast who all seemed to have a right old laugh getting drunk in the lovely Californian wine region.
My main issue is that all the women were a nightmare. Not quirky or sassy just the sort of people you’d leave a pub for if they showed up. The bonding was so on the nose its bouquet would make you retch as they all learn and grow and elicit cries of ‘You go girls’ from the target demographic of lonely people on their third bottle.
There were no laughs to speak of, unless you enjoy stuntmen in unconvincing wigs rolling down a hill for five minutes. Every revelation was flagged from a mile away with the false fronts being cast aside for a bit of truth and then redemption. I’ve not felt this nauseous since that bottle of £1.99 Kwik Save Chardonnay.
One to miss unless you want some quality female bonding with a bunch of women you’d cross the street to avoid.
Best Bit : Get back to you on that. 'W' Rating 5/23
