The art of raunchy Hollywood comedy: Why should men have all the fun?
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When it comes to raunchy Hollywood comedies, itâs a manâs, manâs, manâs world. The big stars are guys. The hot directors are guys. And guys, it seems, are the target audience.
The stories are so formulaic that you can basically fold them all into three categories: men behaving badly (like âThe Hangoverâ series, or âGet Him to the Greek,â); men acting like hapless losers (âDinner for Schmucks,â âI Love You Manâ and pretty much any Will Ferrell movie); and a combination of both (âArthur,â âThe Dilemma,â âThe Other Guysâ and virtually any Adam Sandler movie).
As the veteran TV comedy writer-producer Ken Levine described it on his blog the other day: âThe issues that guys are wrestling with in Hollywood rom-coms these days are âWill I get laid?â âWill I get my man cave?â and the universal: âWhy am I waking up in urine?ââ
Whenever the townâs trade publications run a story about a new comedy script sale, it is almost impossible to get more than two sentences in without seeing the terms âraunchyâ and âThe Hangover.â But if Hollywood can happily lap up dozens of âHangoverâ knock offs, why canât it make room for female-oriented comedies, given that the R-rated âBridesmaidsâ has made nearly $140 million this year and has a legitimate shot at becoming producer Judd Apatowâs top grossing U.S. film?
The answer, like almost everything in this town, boils down to business: Studios donât need to make comedies for women, because theyâve been lapping up the dumb guy humor (and horror films, Marvel comic superhero movies and any kind of tentpole picture).
According to Universal marketers, the studioâs flock of Apatow-produced comedies like âForgetting Sarah Marshallâ and âKnocked Up,â even though populated with male stars, attracted an audience that was 55% female, and 45% male. Even the biggest fan boy movie will only skew 65-35 male.
But if guys think a film is just for gals, it is far more difficult to nudge them out of their comfort zone -- or man caves. A chick flick will often skew 80-20 female, though âBridesmaidsâ ended up being closer to 60-40.
There have been a couple of âBridesmaidsâ-inspired studio script buys in recent weeks. But itâs hardly evidence of a seismic shift. The movies are profoundly slow to reflect broad cultural changes. Itâs worth remembering that virtually all of Hollywoodâs seminal films about the Vietnam War were made well after the conflict was over. But there are rays of hope.
Maggie Carey, a young writer-director best known for her work at web comedy outlets like âFunny or Die,â is just days away from beginning to film âThe To-Do List,â which could be the female equivalent of âAmerican Pie.â Careyâs script has been an underground sensation for several years, having made the 2009 âBlack Listâ roster of hot unproduced scripts and generating considerable buzz when Carey staged a reading at the 2010 Austin Film Festival, with parts being performed by Jessica Alba, Colin Hanks, Aubrey Plaza of âParks and Recreationâ and âSNLâsâ Bill Hader (Careyâs husband).
The script is a delightful early 1990s coming-of-age story about Brandy, a flat-chested, ultra-nerdy valedictorian who, urged on by her more knowing friends, makes an X-rated âTo Doâ list of sexual experiments she can accomplish during her summer before college. The graphic nature of Brandyâs comic sexual encounters canât be described in a family newspaper, nor can its initial title, taken from a slang term for one particular act, be mentioned. Carey says the story was âloosely inspiredâ by her experiences with her high-school pals in circa-1993 Idaho, where she spent her summers working as a lifeguard.
One of Careyâs shrewdest decisions as a writer is the way she sometimes lets the audience eavesdrop on the girls talking about sex, juxtaposing it with the boysâ wildly different description of the same encounter. The dialogue is tart and knowing, especially when it comes to making fun of male self-involvement. When Brandy is having oral sex with the lead singer of a local grunge band, the guy launches into a windy monologue. When she asks him why he keeps talking during their, ahem, encounter, he blithely explains: âIâm a lyricist, honey. Lamenting is what I do.â
Despite all the heat around the script, Carey struck out when she shopped it to the major studios. âThey all passed,â she told me. âAs a first-time director, I always knew that the studios wouldnât let me direct it. Itâs not like anyone ever specifically said, âNo, we wonât make this because youâre a woman.â But they did say, âOur comedy demographic is 18-to-35 men, so weâre looking for movies that guys want to see.ââ
Instead of giving up, Carey went outside the system, attracting enough money, with the help of âAustin Powersâ producer Jennifer Todd, to allow her to make the movie as an independent production. Even with a budget thatâs a fraction of âBridesmaids,â Carey attracted an impressive cast of comic talent. In addition to Plaza, who plays Brandy, the cast includes Andy Samberg as Van, the grunge band singer, Christopher Mintz-Plasse as Duffy, an obnoxious teen boy and Johnny Simmons as Cameron, Brandyâs tongue-tied love interest. Hader is also in the film as Brandyâs lifeguard boss.
Carey has a tight 24-day shooting schedule. âItâs going to be painful,â Carey says. âBut I didnât see a lot of other business models for us, which is why weâre doing this so indepedently and so small.â Sheâs not enthusiastic about being pigeonholed as a female comedy filmmaker. âI like to think of it as personal comedy, not male or female,â she says. âIâm just writing about what I know.â
â Patrick Goldstein