It’s not often you see a film quite like I Feel Pretty, not in that it accomplishes something spectacular, but in how it tries to be a message movie that takes every opportunity it can to undercut that very message. At least, I haven’t seen one this severe in a while.
It does have a promising – if a bit flimsy when under any scrutiny – premise. Renee (Amy Schumer) is very insecure about her looks, and after experiencing a head injury, she believes she somehow transformed into her ideal beauty, and thus becoming the exuberant, confident woman she always wished she was; shenanigans ensue. It could be a fun and engaging way to confront the way women are conditioned to see themselves, and how they should learn to love themselves without worrying about what society thinks. And it’s a pretty pitch perfect setup for indulging in Amy Schumer’s particular comedic sensibilities, which is built around presenting the occasionally nasty, but honest nature of modern femininity.
However, intent is one thing, execution is another, and that’s where start having problems. The film has to walk a tightrope, and while the writing team, Marc Silverstein and Abby Kohn (who also make their directorial debut here), have walked similar territory before having written for films like Never Been Kissed, He’s Just Not That Into You, The Vow, and How To Be Single, there’s a lot of seemingly amateur mistakes with the way the film, especially its use of humor, is constructed. For a film that is all about women being – and loving – themselves for who they are, every joke or gag involving Renee can have the punchline summed up as “lol, she doesn’t fit modern western beauty standards.” It’s so weirdly counter-intuitive that it makes a lot of the film very uncomfortable in how it continuously makes the audience laugh at Renee when we should be laughing with her and cheering on her newfound confidence.
The whole disingenuousness of the film, in terms of intent and execution, can be perfectly exemplified by a scene towards the end (I’ll try not to give too much context for the sake of spoilers). Renee is on a stage essentially spelling out the themes of the movie, about self-love, about confidence, insecurities, and the way society teaches women to look a certain, unattainable way, and this whole speech is given in the middle of a ceremony that celebrates the launch of a new makeup line from the high end cosmetics company that Renee works for. And in case you’re wondering, no, the film doesn’t call out this hypocrisy, nor does it criticize the company for actively targeting average, everyday women for this new line of makeup. To call it tone-deaf would be an understatement.
The film admittedly does have some saving graces. Whenever the humor doesn’t revolve around Renee and her looks, the jokes are solid. Ethan (Rory Scovel), is a very charming and unconventional love interest for Renee, and he does a good job in emotionally grounding the film. And of course, there’s Michelle Williams, who effortlessly steals the entire movie. She plays Avery LeClaire, Renee’s boss and the granddaughter of the founder of the company, Lily (thanklessly played by Lauren Hutton). Williams is so awe-inspiringly committed to some downright bizarre character quirks, you’d think she might be gunning for an Oscar or something. If anything made this film worthwhile for me, it’s because of her.
Unfortunately, that’s about all the good I have to say about I Feel Pretty, it isn’t just that it’s a lot of wasted potential, but it’s almost as if it was actively wasting away that potential moment by moment. Even if the writing and humor were more refined and polished, Kohn and Silverstein still have a ways to go when it comes to directing. The film is blandly staged, full of awkward insert shots and cutaways, scenes just kind of end and don’t flow from one to the other, it’s just not a very pleasant experience overall, aside from an inspired Michelle WIlliams performance. I Feel Pretty may have a good message to teach, but the movie around it still has a lot to learn.