She's Out of My League
Directed by Jim Field Smith
The most common criticism She's Out of My League will endure is that it's a run-of-the-mill romantic comedy. And, in a way, that's accurate. For a modestly budgeted, R-rated "date movie"—as the studio heads would label it—it is very typical. It's typically insolent, misogynistic, and homophobic.
On a routine day working airport security, Kirk (Jay Baruchel) recovers an iPhone and returns it to its owner, Molly (Alice Eve)—an event planner who frequently shuttles from Pittsburgh to New York City. A few days later, he—much to the bewilderment of himself and his friends—ends up on a date with her. Molly is a "sophisticated"— she's wealthy and knows how to say "Thank you" in French—Nicole Kidman-Reese Witherspoon hybrid with a halo as blinding as her bleached teeth. Thus begins the number game. Kirk's friends give him a score between 5 and 6, while Molly is a 10. Let's play the number game, shall we. Five is the number of cheap musical montages. Six is the number of pubic hair jokes. Twelve is the number of contemptible characters.
The apparent misanthropy would almost be admirable if these flat characterizations weren't expected to come off as crudely charming. The most loathsome of the supercilious supporting cast is T.J. Miller, who plays Kirk's Best Friend/Sidekick and delivers every line as if he's throwing up Napoleon Dynamite.
Most offensive here, though, is the ideologically repugnant idea of what constitutes charm, whether it's calling a man who shows sensitivity a "vagina," or the whining of aloof, privileged morons, which ultimately culminates in a simplistic monologue about confidence dictating attractiveness. Ironically, the film disproves its own message; despite asserting the assurance to have "I ejaculated in my pants" serve as the crux of a crucial scene, its boldness cannot compensate for its ugliness.
Opens March 12