Tina Fey and Amy Poehler continue their comic winning streak with “Sisters,” a gross-out comedy motored by girl power that’s funnier than hell. Raunchier, too.
Fey plays Kate, a single mom whose life is all about chaos. Poehler is
her recently divorced sibling Maura, who’s all about control. They have
one thing in common: Neither is content.
They reunite when their parents (the sly and dry Dianne Wiest and James
Brolin) announce they’re selling the family home in Florida.
Cleaning up their girlhood room and reading passages from their old
diaries — Kate’s entries are about doing guys, Maura’s are about doing
good deeds — they decide to throw one last giant blow-out and to switch
roles. Kate will stay sober. Maura will cut loose with James (Ike
Barinholtz), a hunky Mr. Fix-It who lives nearby.
They invite their high school buds, some locals and a well-stocked drug dealer.
Quicker than you can say “Risky Business,” the bash goes from
middle-age Dullsville to major disaster zone with people bouncing off —
and through — the walls. One guest ends up with a ballerina music box
lodged where the sun don’t shine. It’s that kind of humor — and it
works.
Along the way, Kate and Maura finally face up to growing up and leaving the past behind.
The screenplay by “Saturday Night Live” writer Paula Pell cranks up the
potty-mouth and penis jokes and keeps the after-school-special-style
lessons to a minimum. Despite a few sags here and there, director Jason
Moore (“Pitch Perfect”) keeps the movie momentum going.
It’s a blast seeing Fey’s nasty side as Kate, who drops an F-bomb with
every other breath. Poehler’s encounter with a Korean manicurist,
Hae-Won, (Greta Lee) is flat-out hilarious.
“SNL”-ers Maya Rudolph, as a local bi-yatch, Bobby Moynihan as a lame
but sweet geek and Rachel Dratch as a morose woman who’s desperate to
stop the clock all lend able support.
Leave it to Fey and Poehler, who’ve scored laughs together on “SNL,”
the film “Baby Mama” and as awards show hosts to open a movie against
the new “Star Wars” chapter.
Thanks to Tinseltown’s queens of comedy, the farce awakens — with poop jokes, not light sabers.
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